Tempus Edax Rerum
by Mirrordance
Summary: Concluded! The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…
1. A Mission

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PROLOGUE: A Mission 

The Undying Lands

The Near Future

      Long have these shores known a peace and prosperity that was unparalleled in all the years and histories that have ever been known.  It glowed like a beacon and it called like an elusive, beautiful dream that was only all too short, and all too distant.  But for a race that has passed into magical unreality and legend, it was as real as they were.  And it was also resting against an equally real peril.

      Legolas looked over the stretch of the sea, watching the winds stir by the hands of Manwe, and the waves rising in Ulmo's defiance against the dark gray, near-black clouds that crept with a void-like darkness towards their paradise, already having ravaged the Earth beyond, and now seeking to destroy them.

      ~Yuno knows no restraint,~ said Elrond, the older elf-lord who stood beside him, dismayed, ~And the Valar could only do so much at this point.~

      They fell into a silence that was taut with uncertainty and near-despair, as the clouds crept ever closer towards them.  The waves beneath their booted feet receded from the shore and thundered by Ulmo's will towards their frightful enemy.  But none could stop it.  Yuno had destroyed Middle-Earth, and he set his eyes towards the circles that lain beyond it, towards the Undying Lands, which would once again know darkness.

      ~What happens now?~ Legolas asked softly.

      ~We have at last allowed passage of mortals into safety here,~ replied Elrond, ~but I regret it is only a brief respite.  Yuno is coming.  And we will all perish here together.~

      ~Unless…~ Legolas said leadingly, wistfully.

      ~Unless you succeed,~ Elrond filled in, ~This is all that is left of our hope.  All that we have always known and loved rests in your able hands, Legolas.~

      ~They will not give it to me willingly,~ Legolas said stonily, ~They will die before they let anyone keep them from what they perceive they must do.  Such is their admirable nature.~

      ~They will trust you,~ said Elrond, ~If they will trust anyone at all.  No one else could do this but you.  You must be as willing to succeed as they.  Take it by force if you must.  Or else it is not only the doom of men that we face, but the doom of _everything_.~

      ~You ask me to raise my weapon against them in case they should resist,~ Legolas said softly, ~What do you think of me?~

      ~You know the costs of failure,~ said Elrond harshly, ~And you know where your duties ultimately lie.~  It was a point Legolas could not dispute.  He could not fail.  He could not…

      ~How much time do I have?~ Legolas asked.

      ~Think not of time,~ replied Elrond, ~You will be thousands of years ahead.  Know only that you must not fail.~

      ~They are ready for you,~ the lady Galadriel said, coming up from behind them.

      _But I am not_, Legolas thought, although he followed them because he was simply made that way; his heart could not turn away.  His duties would not allow it of him.

      ~It is still new,~ Galadriel told him as they walked through the intricate ways of the tower, towards its top, where a curious machine of steel-gray stood, still glowingly warm after just having been forged.  It formed a slim, heavy arc, and seemed to cackle with an electrifying strength.

      Elves stepped forward and helped him into his armor, and a light-weight, pressed-black metal band dotted with tiny silver buttons that ran from the knuckles of his fist to most of his forearm.  He glanced at it and quickly ran the details of how to run it in his tortured mind.

      He did not like the circumstances that ultimately brought him to where he was and where he was going, but he understood what had to be done, and he would do it, one way or another.

      Steeling his heart, he ensured that he had all he needed: his sleek black bow and quiver filled with shafts of arrows, a pair of slim guns, a pair of slightly curved, _mithril_ scimitars, and a silver dagger in one of his boots.  

      ~Does anyone have a flashlight?~ he asked, looking around.  An elf tossed him a powerful, slim-handled, silver piece that he caught easily and tucked into one of the multitude of pockets in his thick black coat.  He thought he might need it, and then it suddenly crossed his mind that perhaps it would thrill the hobbits.  It was ridiculous and crazy, but once he got started thinking about his old companions, he also found himself searching for band-aids of all things, thinking perhaps Aragorn would consider them one of the finest inventions of all time…

      He looked towards Lord Elrond determinedly, suddenly eager to begin with his mission almost as much as his heart began to yearn for the company of old friends that have long been only ghosts and memories to him, all who was left after all these years.

      ~Send me away.~

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. The Latecomer

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART 1: The Latecomer

The Council of Elrond, Imladris

October 25, 3018, The Third Age

      The stranger was clad in heavy black.  They thought perhaps he was a Ringwraith by the looks of him, and it stirred their blood until he lowered his fur-lined hood and appeared to be a fair-haired elf, albeit a profoundly rare and strange one.

      His hair was golden and trimmed, not at all worn in the usually long, braided fashion, but instead with its short, jagged, layered edges barely touching the black-furred collar of his unbuttoned coat.  His clothes underneath were also black, with specks of silver occasionally catching the light of the sun, buckles of black leather straps and edges of otherwise well-concealed weapons.  His boots were light and sleek, and reached up to just below his knees.  He would have looked exactly like the Prince of Mirkwood, except the Prince had long since walked past these gates and was at the moment, already involved in a secret council headed by the Lord of Imlardis.

      The elf guards blocked the mysterious stranger's path, and sternly asked him what his business was in Rivendell.

      ~Last I heard,~ the stranger told them wryly, his irrepressibly humorous eyes also much like the slate-blue of the Prince of Mirkwood, save for a careful, somewhat bitter aging they found nestled there, ~The hospitality of Lord Elrond is open to all those with a kind will.~

      The guards looked at each other, then back at him with suspicion.

      ~And such is yours?~ one of them asked.

      ~Yes,~ he replied easily.

      ~Who are you?~ another guard asked.

      ~If I told you,~ replied the stranger, ~you would not believe me.  So let us leave it at this: as a sign of my good will, I would be happy to leave in your custody all of my weapons, and beg for the audience of Lord Elrond at the earliest possible time.~

      ~He is presently closeted in a meeting of grave importance,~ said a guard, ~You will have to wait.~

      ~If it is the Council of Elrond that you speak,~ said the stranger, ~I could think of no better a time than to speak to him of my grave tidings.~

      The guards looked at each other.  ~We have been expressly ordered not to disrupt it.~

      ~But I am invited,~ argued the stranger, ~It only happens that I am late.  Or in some sense, possibly early.  Either way, there could be no better time,~ he removed his bow and quiver and handed it to a rightfully stunned guard, and his coat soon followed.  And then he pulled at the black leather straps that held his guns, and then his scimitars, and then the dagger from his boot.  He opened his arms for their careful inspection.  Now clad only in a high-necked black knit sweater underneath a black, armored vest and his black pants and a disarming smile, he looked far less menacing than he had when they first set eyes on him.

      ~If I didn't know for a certainty that Legolas Greenleaf was already inside,~ said one guard, ~I would say he were you.~

      The stranger smirked at him.  And easily led the way towards the location of the council as if he had always trod these paths, making the guards that escorted him wonder even more.

* * * 

      The pronouncement concerning the making of the fellowship of the ring had just been made by the time he had arrived, and his coming ceased all commotion and created a strange silence.

      He could not resist a glance at his younger self, and once their eyes met, both knew they were connected in a way that defied space and time, and even reality.  The Prince of Mirkwood's eyes widened a little at the sight of the stranger, and the stranger favored him with a hesitant smile.

      "Who are you?" Legolas found himself asking… well, himself. 

      "I am you," he replied easily, before turning to Lord Elrond, "You sent me here, my lord.  Or at least, your future self did.  Now I wonder if you will listen to me."

      Elrond's brows furrowed.  "Do not speak in riddles, stranger.  We are pressed for time as it is.  Now tell us, _plainly_, who you are and what business have you here."  To his guards he looked pointedly, and they exited by his unspoken order.

      "I am Legolas," replied the stranger, "I am the Legolas of the future.  Long has it been believed that time moves in a linear fashion.  Past, present and future, one trailing after the other in an easily comprehensible manner.  What's done is done, and one can only look towards living the future.  But in latter years we would all come to know that what's done _can_ be undone after all.  With a new machine, mistakes can be rectified by returning through instances in time and changing what transpires.  And that is what has brought me here."

      "From how far into the future?" Elrond asked.

      "Several thousand years," he answered, "A mistake will be committed here that I must prevent, to save the world as we all have come to know and love it."

      "What mistake?" Aragorn asked, leaning forward and devouring the face of a friend he had long known, except now there were two of them, and thisw one he did not particularly felt comfortable with.

      "The One Ring must not be destroyed."

      --

      "Preposterous," snapped the younger Legolas, "It spells the doom of men, and all of Middle-Earth.  It must be cast into Mount Doom.  Sauron must not be allowed to triumph."

      "The future spells a more savage disaster," said the older Legolas, "An evil greater than Sauron himself.  The books do not tell of Iluvatar's perfect foil, you see, for long has he been cast into darkness, until he returned.  Yuno is his name, and he is Eru's reckless brother.  As surely as there is black for all that is white, and dark for all that is bright, there is an evil that corresponds to all that is good.  If Eru is the creator, Yuno is the destroyer.  And in the future, he destroys all of Middle-Earth, and as of the time I had left, he was headed even towards the Undying Lands.

      "I," continued the older Legolas, "Was sent back through time _precisely_ by you, Lord Elrond, to ensure that the ring is not destroyed.  We desperately need it.  If the survival of Middle Earth relies upon its destruction, the survival of all of Middle Earth and all that lies beyond it relies in its preservation."

      "How do we know these are not just wild demon-ranting from a mad elf?" growled the dwarf Gimli, "You ask us to prevent fates that we are not even certain are real! We only know our own immediate dangers."

      "I do not have that blind luxury," snapped the older Legolas, "I have come from the future and I guarantee it," he looked at Aragorn achingly, "I need you to trust me."

      Aragorn met his eyes evenly, "_I_ do not have that luxury…" he hesitated before adding quietly, "…Legolas.  But I admit the things you say merit thought."

      The older Legolas averted his eyes, pained, even as Aragorn's eyes met the burning ones of the younger Prince of Mirkwood that he truly knew.

      "How do we know you are not just some conjurer?" Legolas asked, "All that you say are… are bedtime stories for all we could tell.  Fiction.  Possibly intentional lies to keep us from what we must do."

      The stranger set his jaws, knowing he was up virtually against the impossible.  "If my own self cannot trust me, I cannot see how I could possibly succeed here."

      "We are not even certain we are one and the same," argued Legolas, "I for one cannot believe you."

      The stranger's eyes narrowed, and they looked at each other in a disconcertingly identical way.  "Turn your palm towards me," he commanded, "And cut yourself across."

      Legolas hesitated, not wanting to trust the stranger and definitely not wanting to prove him right.  But everyone in the council had turned expectantly towards them, and he drew out a dagger from his boot and ran it across his left palm, drawing blood.  The stranger turned his own left palm towards the other elf and the group watched as a wound appeared there as well, identical to Legolas', and then healed and scarred and faded, as if with time.  

      "I am you," the stranger said with finality, as the Prince of Mirkwood averted his burning gaze and set a piece of cloth against his own fresh wound.

      "You must understand," said Aragorn, "Even if we are certain that you are one and the same, we cannot preserve the ring, for it is tantamount to ending our own lives.  Such is a risk we cannot take, especially since all we have for proof of this future that you speak are your words.  We know only what danger we see in the horizon.  And such years you speak of are far beyond us."

      The stranger shook his head in dismay.  "What is dreadfully ironic here is that rather than anyone else, I was sent here because I was supposed to be trusted by all of you."  He turned towards Lord Elrond, "I will see you when I return to the future, my lord.  And you will sorely regret not having listened, because now I am a part of your memories.  And you will know then, for a certainty, that you have made a mistake.  Farewell."

      "You will just leave?" Aragorn asked.

      "Yes," said the stranger, turning away from them and exiting, walking away in the potent silence that followed, the barely-perceptible sounds of his footfalls fading into the distance.

      "It would do us all good if you had him accosted and locked up until the quest is over," Legolas told Lord Elrond, "He will follow if you set him free, and he will try to stop us."

      "Would he?" said Lord Elrond wistfully.

      "Because I would," Legolas said quietly, "If I were so determined."

      Lord Elrond turned to the Istari Gandalf expectantly, "What do you know of this?"

      Gandalf rubbed at his beard in thought.  He had been in silence all this while, and his counsel was invaluable.  "I think we can rely on who he says he is.  And if I can conclude that this stranger is indeed Legolas, then it follows that I can award him the same level of trust.  Perhaps he speaks the truth.  Let him roam freely to do as he will.  We are more than able to defend ourselves, in case he strikes.  Either way, one more stowaway hardly bothers me."

      "Well it certainly bothers me," retorted Legolas, "He cannot be trusted.  He _will_ stop us, if he were I and all that he says are true."

      "Then all is well and good," said Gandalf, "for if indeed the things he says are true, than it is only right that we be stopped, don't you think? Let the line run long.  Things will happen as they ultimately must."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. The Quest Begins

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART TWO: The Quest Begins

The Road from Rivendell

December 25, 3018, the Third Age

      Long has the fellowship stayed in Imladris after the Council of Elrond, and the two months of rest and recovery made for an energized troop, although each of their mighty hearts strained in some way or another.

      Ensconced in the safety of Rivendell, Legolas let his mind drift away from the dream-like other-self that have strayed into their time and their mission.  But once along the road, he could not help but wonder about the stranger who had come into the Council and asked for their trust, and he wondered now if indeed he was following.

      Determined to stay at the tail to better defend his companions ironically from his own self, Legolas trailed the rest of the group, which was occupied by the genial, animated chatter of the hobbit Pippin.

      With some amusement, Legolas watched as Aragorn, coming from the point, slow his stride and let the others gradually pass him by, until his pace matched his old friend's.

      ~We do not appear to be followed by your other self,~ Aragorn commented in Elvish, ~If none else saw him but myself, I'd have come to believe he was only a dream.~

      ~For convenience's sake,~ said Legolas wryly, ~Let's refer to him as Greenleaf.  I get to be Legolas, because this is _my_ time.~

      ~Fair enough,~ smiled Aragorn, ~I do not sense _Greenleaf_ about.  But I cannot rest against my own conclusions until your elf-senses have confirmed the same.~

      ~Aye,~ agreed Legolas, ~He does not follow.~

      ~You seem bothered by this,~ said Aragorn.

      ~I suppose I do not know myself as well as I thought,~ said Legolas, ~All the better for us, though.  I am much relieved.~

      They walked in silence for awhile, Pippin's words dancing in the air.  "If I had me a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want, I would go back to that time of my twelfth birthday.  And I would not have jumped into the water…"

      ~If I had me a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want,~ said Aragorn to Legolas with an inviting grin, ~I would go back to when I first met you and run in the other direction.~

      Legolas chuckled, and his eyes danced as he looked upon the human.  ~Your heart seems much lighter, _mellon_.~

      Aragorn exhaled, and looked at Legolas earnestly.  ~Greenleaf had come from thousands of years into the future, didn't he? And he said he returned to keep us from destroying the ring.  Do you know what that means, Legolas? It means our mission will succeed.  It means that at least for a few thousand years, we will purchase peace and end the reign of Sauron.  This gives me some peace of mind.  Although,~ he frowned, ~What he said will transpire after also troubles me.  I know for a certainty that when Yuno comes, he is no longer my problem for I would have been long-dead.  But still… Gondor would be standing, and its people.  And these people are the children of my children.  And then… there is you.

      Aragorn continued, ~Greenleaf—_you_, had a solitary loneliness that I could not touch.  It was as if all the world was a burden, a burden that could be shared with no one.  You seemed so dreadfully alone.~

      Legolas did not deny this, for from his future self he had felt that same aching solitude.  It gave him a sense of dread that such would be his fate.  Death was almost kinder.  But he did not dare say this to Aragorn of all people, whose untenable spirit was dangerously convincing if courted by despair.

      ~Do you trust him?~ Legolas asked, suddenly.

      ~Would it offend you if I said no?~ Aragorn teased.

      ~Not really,~ chuckled Legolas.

* * *

West Gate of Moria

January 13, 3019, the Third Age

* * *

      Things had looked somewhat bleaker days into the quest, with the companions weary and disheartened, particularly after their descent from cruel Caradhras and her harsh winds and frigid snow.

      The blizzards sent by Saruman had done their worst, and the bedraggled fellowship trod towards the mines of Moria, feeling as if they have wasted time and energy on the mountain which they had climbed and descended, returning almost exactly from where it was that they came, wasting days, wasting strength, and effort.

      If anyone was in remotely high spirits, it was Gimli, who was eager to set foot upon the massive caves of legend, upon which his cousin Balin lorded.  If the brutal time he had spent along Caradhras was the way by which he ultimately reaches Moria, then it was time well-spent in his eye.

      Gandalf was less eager, for he knew of older, greater evils in the deeps that belittled the storms of the icy mountains.  Still, he could do little else but move forward.  He had his duties to fulfill, and if his fate would bring him to these gates, then this was where he ought to be going.

      Waiting for them at the massive rock face was none other than the black-clad Legolas of the future, and the present Legolas stalked towards him with an unwelcoming scowl.

      "What brings you here?" Legolas demanded.

      "Caradhras was a waste of time, wasn't it?" the other Legolas asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

      Pippin, coming up beside the Legolas of the present asked him, in a complaining tone, "Legolas, you are of the future, right? Why didn't you just tell us to go straight here, then?"

      "Because Legolas is a vindictive elf," said Gimli, coming up behind them, "We would not believe him and he has set it upon himself to avenge it, and so here he is gloating at us."

      "I admit that is part of it," said the future Legolas, "But I let you come upon Caradhras because I knew there would ultimately be no peril there and you will make your way here unscathed.  I needed to prove to you that I speak truth.  Now do you believe me?"

      "What else does the future hold, Legolas?" Boromir asked, and Legolas wished that anyone else would have asked that question, and not the human he knew for a certainty would be the quest's casualty.

      "We will not get married until--," the Legolas of the future said to his past self wryly, to the other's consternation.

      "Do not speak of such things," he seethed, cutting him off, "I do not wish to hear of my life as if I had already lived it.  And for the Valar, would everyone refer to the stranger as Greenleaf rather than Legolas? To ease confusion.  _I'm_ Legolas."

      Greenleaf shrugged.  "It is a fair request."

      "What are your plans, Greenleaf?" Gandalf asked him, peering into his eyes, "Are you here to stop us?"

      "I am here to convince you," he replied, "Now you know that I speak at least a measure of truth.  Then perhaps I would not need to take the ring from you perforce."

      "You will not succeed if you did try, elf," growled Gimli.

      Greenleaf tilted his head at the dwarf and arched an eyebrow at him.  "Do you know that we will be the dearest of friends in the end? That the world will never know a greater friendship than yours and mine?"

      Gimli's grip upon his axe tightened.  "Let's dice him right now, Aragorn.  Now we know for sure he is lying."

      "For once I agree with the dwarf," said Legolas.

      "Ah," Greenleaf grinned, having successfully baited them, "See how it already starts?"

      "Only if it means we share in our disapproval of you," Legolas retorted.

      Aragorn looked at the three of them miserably.  "I presume this means you will be joining us for the rest of our mission."

      "Yes," said Greenleaf.

      "Can we dissuade you?" Aragorn asked him wryly, knowing the answer even before he asked.

      "I'm sorry, _mellon_," Greenleaf replied, "You cannot."

      ~I will be watching you,~ Legolas told him under his breath.

      ~I know,~ said Greenleaf, as his eyes trailed after Gandalf, who was deciphering the password to open the gates of Moria.  It took him the better part of an hour to declare a temporary defeat, and he looked pointedly at Greenleaf as he rested, one of many looks that have been thrown his way amongst the fellowship since it became apparent that Gandalf would not be leading them inside anytime soon.

      "Is this another waste of time then?" Merry asked him.      

      "There are some things I know I must let unfold on their own," Greenleaf said, "I fear to change certain things too."

      "Well it is frustrating to say the least," Merry said, tossing a stone into the black, reflection-less pool that rested a few meters from the West Gate leading to Moria, "knowing you know and refuse to tell us."

      Pippin grabbed a bigger stone, determined to toss his further than Merry had.  But Aragorn grabbed at his arms and warned him not to stir the waters.

      "Are things happening exactly as they had before, Greenleaf?" Frodo the Ringbearer asked, ever perceptive and his eyes searching.

      "Somewhat," Greenleaf replied with an assuring smile, "You needn't fear.  You are well looked-after here.  How are you at riddles?"

      Frodo's brows furrowed, not understanding where this was going.  But as he was always polite, he replied, "I have been told that I am not bad at it at all."

      "Perhaps you could teach Mithrandir a thing or two," Greenleaf suggested, making Gandalf look up at him with narrowed eyes, not sop much offended as curious.

      Frodo looked up at the writings upon the Moria wall.  "Speak friend and enter," he paused in thought, "What is the elvish word for friend?"

      "_Mellon_," replied Gandalf, and suddenly the rocks stirred, and shook, and the gates opened for them at last.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. Into the Dark

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART THREE: Into the Dark

Mines of Moria

January 13, 3019, the Third Age

      Greenleaf readied his guns, and stayed at the flank of the group, as one by one they entered into the mine.  In truth, he longed to stand beside Gimli as the dwarf discovers in anguish of what evil had transpired and ultimately destroyed his kin in the great mines, but his first concerns were settled with keeping the fellowship alive and safe.

      From the rear, he heard Gimli jovially describe a mine, and for Boromir and his younger self to quickly see that it was more of a tomb at this time, razed by goblins, with bodies of dwarves littering the dusty ground.

      "We should not have come here," Gandalf said under his breath, as slowly, the fellowship of the ring backed away from the cold darkness of the interior of the mine, returning to the dim light of the night sky from where they came.

      Greenleaf stood against the opening of the gate, and fired his guns at the first tentacles of the foul beast that shot from the black waters, the lasers sending forth straight beams of orange light that seared the flesh it struck, making the beast cry out in a most unearthly way.

      Numerous more tentacles rose from the water, and the beast reared its massive, ugly head.  Beside him, Greenleaf felt the hobbits whimper, and hurriedly make their way back into the deeps of Moria, as he, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir covered their retreat.

      Much as they had the last time Greenleaf had lived this experience, the beast's tentacles embraced at the walls of the mines in an effort to reach its prey, making the rock crumble over the exit, and for all light to cease.

* * *

      After the last of the rocks had stilled, a dim radiance from Gandalf's staff glowed in the heavy blackness of Moria, as he declared most gravely that now they had no choice but to move forward along the only path before them.

      Greenleaf stepped forward towards the head of the column, beside Gandalf, and drew out his flashlight, flicking on the button and setting greater yellow light into the gloom.  He handed it to the old wizard, saying, ~Save your energy, Mithrandir.  This will be our light.~

      Gandalf's staff dimmed, and he looked at Greenleaf in a most peculiar way, before accepting the silver stick with a tentative smile, ~You know something I do not, Greenleaf.  And I do not have the heart to ask what it is.  But thank you.~

      "Wow, Greenleaf, what on all of Arda is that?" asked Pippin, awed, and tried to walk at Gandalf's pace as he craned his neck to see what it was.

      "It's a flashlight, Pippin," Greenleaf replied with a smile, "I thought you might like it."

      Gandalf raised the flashlight into the dark, shedding some light along their path.  Before them lay two hundred, ragged, damaged and uneven steps that led to an arched passage over level ground that led to what looked like nothingness.

      "It's a rather long way, isn't it?" Samwise asked Greenleaf, "How long to the other side, Greenleaf, assuming we do reach it?"

      "We will," Greenleaf promised him, and there seemed a collective sigh from the rest of the hobbits, and even some more quiet ones from the others of the fellowship, "It will take us less than four days, and I guarantee you it will simply fly by."

      Frodo smiled at this, and shook off his fears of the dark, and from the monster at the door.  "Why don't we sit and rest here upon the landing for awhile, and have something to eat?"

      The suggestion was well-received and in minutes, the company found themselves dining upon the steps.  Greenleaf better lit the meal when he drew out a strange, slim, flexible stick filled with a murky white liquid.  He cracked at it and it glowed orange, and he laid it upon the ground as they ate.

      Pippin, ever curious, sat beside him and asked him about what else he held inside his coats.  

      "Not much else," he chuckled, tasting Sam's broth and closing his eyes in pleasure of this meal that was actually so simple, but tasted exquisite because of the memories that accompanied it.  He was eating with ghosts, and dreams, and recollections.

      Legolas watched him with set jaws and stern eyes and beside him, Aragorn was doing the same except once in awhile, his eyes would drift to the elf at his side, and marvel at him.

      ~The things you would see,~ Aragorn said to Legolas softly, ~I cannot begin to imagine the histories you would unfold before your watchful elf-eyes.~

      ~Nor I,~ said Legolas, with more than a hint of sadness to his voice that was not lost on the Ranger.

      ~All will be well, _mellon_,~ he said quietly.

      ~You wouldn't know,~ Legolas told him with a wan smile, ~Greenleaf does, and he says otherwise.~

      Greenleaf looked up at them, and they knew he heard the entire exchange from the time it began, blessed as he was with his elven hearing.  His eyes glowed even in the dim light of his blasted strange, modern, glowing sticks.  But he averted his gaze and lowered his head, focusing upon his food.

      "If I had a time machine," Pippin said suddenly, "I would go straight to the moment when we leave this place."

      "If I had a time machine," retorted Merry, "I would go back to the time when you ever learned anything about time machines and shut your ears so you wouldn't keep talking about it."

      Gimli sat beside Aragorn with a grunt, leaning his axe against the steps.  "Do you think anyone survived?" he asked, his grumbling voice low and quiet and underlined with a sadness that was only surpassed by the depth of his eyes.

      "I do not think so, Gimli," Aragorn admitted.

      "I… I'm sorry, Master Dwarf," Legolas felt compelled to say, simply because he was there, "Your kind may not rest in my favor, but from the look of things I can still admire the bravery by which they stood their ground."

      "Thank you," Gimli said tightly, as uncomfortable with the elf's kindness as he was with returning it.

      Between them, Aragorn pursed his lips to keep from smiling, and looked up at Greenleaf who had a similar look on his face, as their twinkling eyes met.

      It was in those eyes that Aragorn had finally found the Legolas that he truly did know.  The lightness of his heart meshed inextricably with his devotion to his duties.  He had always been an elf apart from the rest, with a curious impulse and passion that was more like to a mortal, living as if there was no tomorrow.  It was in these thoughts that Aragorn found himself rising from his place and joining Greenleaf, leaving Legolas and Gimli to their own devices, trusting them not to strangle each other for the first time since they were introduced.

      He felt Legolas watch his back, but otherwise paid it no heed.  Pippin and Merry had occupied each other once again, as Sam and Frodo spoke in lowered tones of older days, and Gandalf and Boromir spoke of their route.  In this picture did Greenleaf seem even more dreadfully alone than the sadness that had already been in his eyes to begin with.

      Aragorn sat beside him, and the elf looked up at him with an uncertain, tentative smile.

      "If I so much as move towards you," said Greenleaf, amused, "Legolas would send an arrow through my neck in the blink of an eye.  He is fiercely protective of you."

      "Is this a sentiment that you share?" Aragorn asked.

      "Of course," Greenleaf replied, "We are one, after all.  Although he is loathe to accept it.  I wonder why.  Am I really so bad?"

      Aragorn smirked, "I think he disapproves of your fashions."

      Legolas of course, with his sharp elf ears heard this and scowled at Aragorn, before deciding to occupy himself with Gimli instead.

      "He does have a care for that head of hair," Aragorn continued, not discouraged at all, "And he is probably upset that you cut it."

      Greenleaf smiled, gratified for the humor and comfort that his old friend was offering him graciously, "Well.  Hair grows.  He needn't hate me for it."

      They fell to a companionable silence, broken only by moments of dully clanking tin as Sam re-packed their foodstuffs, and Pippin's musical laughter. 

      "Is the future really so bad as you look when you think about it?" Aragorn asked him softly.

      Greenleaf gave it a moment of thought.  "Your wisdom and valor would lend Middle-Earth peace and happiness for centuries, so I suppose it is not so bad, at least for awhile.  When everyone begins to die around me, I can only attribute it to my fate as an elf, and know there is little that I could do about it.  And then Yuno arrives, and this great weight..." he shook his head in dismay, and sighed, "When I had left, the few surviving mortals from the razing of Middle-Earth were allowed refuge into the Undying Lands.  But Yuno had set his mind in the destruction of all that Eru had ever made, and he was coming.  Mortal, Elf, Maiar, Valar, all set their armies at the ready, and the Valar came together in a way unparalleled even by the War of Wrath.  And still they thought that their best hopes lain with me."

      Aragorn's brows furrowed at the thought of the Destroyer, as powerful as Eru himself, and at the cruel fate that had all brought them together like this.  "Would you kill for the ring?"

      "Yes," Greenleaf said levelly, "I cannot lie to you.  I know what failure means.  I would kill for the ring.  And you would die for it, wouldn't you? Which sends us along opposite poles, and yet here you are, sitting with me."

      "I cannot abhor you for what you feel you need to do," Aragorn told him quietly, after a moment of thought, "anymore than you can hate me, or yourself, for the determination to destroy the ring.  We can all of us do only what we know to be right and true, _when_ we know it to be right and true."

      "Well then," Greenleaf smiled, trying to take the edge off the conversation as he was wont to, "I will take no offense if you try to kill me for trying to kill you."

      Aragorn laughed, "Nor will I, _mellon_."

      And Greenleaf laughed, even as his eyes watered, because long has it been since he had heard the voice of his old, long-dead friend call him by that endearment, and it chipped at the ice in his years-weathered heart.  

      He blinked at his tears, and lowered his head to hide his face, drawing out a slim pack filled with strips and strips of band-aids.  

      "I brought you something," he said with a smile, handing the pack to Aragorn, who opened it curiously.  He examined a strip.

      "It is a bandage, of sorts," said Greenleaf, "for minor cuts.  You needn't tie it, because it sticks to the skin.  We call them band-aids."

      Aragorn smiled, genuinely touched by the thought, though he joked, "You brought Pippin a _flashlight_ and this is what you thought to bring me."

      "It's because I know you get into a lot of trouble," laughed Greenleaf, taking a strip and wrapping it around a small cut he had found in Aragorn's sword hand, "It keeps the wound clean, helps it heal, and keeps it from stinging when it touches and brushes things."

      "They must have very little to do in the future," said Aragorn as he raised his hand up for a look, "to think of these things."

      "I did say you bought centuries of peace with your wisdom and valor," chuckled Greenleaf, "congratulations, your courage has paved the way for band-aids."

      Aragorn laughed, "I always knew I was meant for great things."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Burdens of Foreknowledge

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART FOUR: Burdens of Foreknowledge

Mines of Moria

January 15, 3019, the Third Age

      They traveled long and hard along the seemingly infinite darkness of labyrinthine old Moria, following intricate ways that took them upward for hours on end, and downward, and level, and wound around unendingly.  The floors were old, fragile to the heavy step here and there, potholes dotting it and falling all the way to a depth that could not be seen by the eye.

      Gandalf led the way, his memory keen on all but one occasion, that with some contemplation still ultimately led them where they needed to go.

      It is along this path that they had come upon the tomb of Balin, Lord of Moria.  Gimli stood against it, brokenhearted, his wails sounding the halls and filling it with even more despair than it had already known.

      Gandalf absently handed his staff and hat to Pippin, and leaned over a corpse of a dwarf that had a stuffy, thick book in its death-grasp.  While Gimli was occupied in his grief, and Legolas urged Aragorn to move forward, and Gandalf read from the book of the last moments of the dwarves of Moria, Greenleaf watched the curious hobbit Pippin step back towards a well, and his brows furrowed in thought, knowing what was about to happen and if he should keep it from happening.

      Pippin would cause a ruckus that would awaken the demons of Moria to their presence which was up until that moment, unnoticed.  A battle would ensue, and they would all rush out of the hall trailed by goblins, and then the detestable balrog, ultimately leading to the fall of Gandalf.  A fall which, while painful in its heart-wrenching loss, had its own ends to pursue and Greenleaf knew he must not change.  But was the battle necessary at all? Or should he just lie still and let things unfold?

      He watched as Pippin took a careful interest with the corpse lying precariously balanced against the well.  His time was running short.  A decision had to be made.  Should he stop the hobbit?    

      "I wouldn't if I were you," he told the hobbit quietly.

      "Wouldn't what--?" Pippin asked, turning toward him so sharply in guilt that Gandalf's staff his the corpse at the twist, and sent it down into the depths of the well below, dragging a bucket and a chain with it, hitting rocks sharply as it descended, banging and clanging, calling for attention.

      Greenleaf sighed, as the rest of the fellowship held their breaths in anticipation for the consequences of this clumsiness.  He supposed some things were just supposed to happen, and it comforted him some that there were greater fates that lain beyond his hands.

      "Fool of a Took!" Gandalf exclaimed as he shut the book and took his belongings from the rightfully-stunned Pippin, "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

      Just as the fellowship were starting to feel relief that Pippin's difficult-to-miss alert had seemingly gone unnoticed, drums sounded across the halls, a dull echoing that sent a chill to the bone, especially since Gandalf's reading of the final moments of the dwarves of Moria had assured that such drums preceded fatal attacks.

      "Orcs!" Legolas exclaimed, as Boromir ran for the door to peer into the dark, and the thwok of arrows against the wood narrowly missed his head as he reared away from them.  He announced that the beasts had brought a blasted troll with them to boot, and he and Aragorn shut the doors hurriedly.  Legolas and Greenleaf each tossed them an axe to barricade it with in such equal form and precision that upon catching the axes, Boromir and Aragorn glanced at each other, impressed.

      "They are indeed one and the same!" exclaimed Boromir over the growing din of the drums.  They backed away from the door and readied their stances, the two Legolases side by side, one armed with his bow and the other with his pair of silver guns.  Beside them, Aragorn readied his own bow and Boromir and most of the hobbits stood with their swords slightly at the rear, with Gimli and his axe, Gandalf with his staff, and Sam with, of all things, his pots and pans.

      The first orcs to fall had peered through holes upon the door and have been shot by well-placed arrows.  But the barricades would not hold for very long, and only then did the battle truly begin.  Each of the fellowship had more than his share of the barrage of orcs that had flowed into the hall like a flash-flood, even before the cave troll came barreling into the room and trashing it as if it were made of twigs, and not the toughest of stones.

      Legolas took careful aim at the troll and his arrow met its mark, but such stern stuff was this troll made of that it hardly courted more than a cry of annoyance.  Legolas focused his skills elsewhere as the troll took notice of Gimli and sent its mace crashing into where the dwarf stood, splintering Balin's tomb.

      Greenleaf downed orc after orc with his guns, tearing through them as he made his way to Sam's side, fearing for his blasted pans even as he knew that the valiant hobbit was certainly making the best and most effective use of them.

      "I think I'm getting the hang of this," Sam said to the elf breathlessly, as another orc fell to his swing with a bang.

      Greenleaf smiled at him indulgently and said, "Just make sure you wash it before we eat."

      A temporary respite lent Sam and Greenleaf the time to watch as Legolas was swung at with a chain by the mighty troll, and he wrapped the heavy mail against a pillar and locked it in place with an axe.  Then he made his graceful way towards the orc's head and pointed his bow straight down, releasing an arrow, hoping to find the troll's weakness, before jumping down.

      "Good move," Sam said to Greenleaf.

      "I thought so too," the elf grinned and winked, before they turned away from each other to face their approaching enemies.  Elsewhere, Greenleaf knew another drama unfolded, one that would cause more good than harm, so he let it happen undeterred, and unaided.

      The troll had targeted the Ringbearer, and though he had used his guile and succeeded for awhile, the troll eventually managed to skewer the hobbit to the wall with a spear, sending him stunned to the ground.

      "Frodo?!" exclaimed Sam, his heart pumping in fear and anger, eager for retaliation at the perceived fall of his dear friend, just as Pippin and Merry yelled their battle cries and sauntered purposefully towards the troll with their blades held high over their heads.

      Greenleaf watched as the efforts to succeed heightened with the fellowship's burning adrenalin and aching loss, resulting in the battle soon ending, as the orcs fell and the troll smashed against the floor after a lethal shot from Legolas' bow.  The sound of the orc's body thumping to the ground and the silence that followed it was one that he remembered well, and achingly.  They thought they had lost Frodo, and it brought them together in their grief.

      Sam, gathering himself from the floor, shot an angry, tearful look in Greenleaf's way.  "You knew this would happen.  You knew! And yet you did nothing.  You did nothing! You wanted us to fail and now you ensured it! You are vile!"

      Greenleaf's jaws set; the hobbit would soon know his anger was not deserved.  But his heart wrenched at the betrayal in the oft-jolly hobbit's eyes, and his heart wrenched further in knowing that Gandalf's fall—minutes away—would merit him the same reaction.

      Aragorn glanced at Greenleaf, brows furrowed as he tended to Frodo, as if he was wondering if he was wrong about the kindness of the elf after all.  Legolas was watching his older self with horror, as if he could not believe that he would lend himself to such an act of evil.

      "I'm all right, I'm not hurt."

      All eyes shot to the stunned but otherwise well Frodo upon the ground, and Greenleaf looked away from them, catching a breath he did not know he was holding.  They had all turned to him with angry betrayal, and it broke his heart.  Why did he have to come back with such a task as this? Long had he yearned to once again see his friends, and when his wish was granted, it had to be under these circumstances, and such instances began to taint his loving memories.  

      _Why did I have to come back_, he wondered brokenly, turning away from them, as they all marveled at Frodo's survival.

      The heavy footfalls and battle cries of the orcs soon sounded in the near distance once again, and Gandalf commanded them off, off towards the nearing bridge of Khazad-dum.  Off towards his doom, and off towards what they would all surely look to once again as Greenleaf's betrayal.

      The Fellowship tore through the corridors and ways, trailed by uncountable predators that stalked the darkness as if they owned it, and lorded over it.  They broke into a quicker run towards a wide hall that was soon immersed in a light that promised a menace greater than the goblins that followed after them hungrily.

      "What is this new devilry?" Bormoir asked, eyes widening as the light glowed further at the end of the hall, creeping ever closer towards them as their own pursuers fled from this great horror.

      "A Balrog," Gandalf replied gravely as he eyed the approach of the brilliant fiery light, "a demon of the ancient world.  This is a foe beyond any of you.  Run!"  
      And if Gandalf could find any foe to run from, then run they must for the Istari was wise and worldly.  The fear that emanated from Gandalf was like fire to their veins, making them run faster and faster, as if their foe breathed against their neck, its forked tongue grazed against their cheeks.  They fled as if they had never fled before, turning blind corners and running so quickly they found it hard to stop, the momentum taking them forward as it did Boromir, nearly falling into a massive height where a broken stairway ended its steps, saved only by Legolas who had grabbed him from behind.

      The fellowship stopped not even for a moment to catch their breath at this near-fall, and they turned and found another steep descent, running and tripping and rising or being forcefully hauled up, they moved forward blindly and desperately.

      But the steps were broken here and there, and the gaps, though often spanning less than a meter across, daunted the companions with the height of its fall, should their jumps fail to adequately make the distance.  In such instances did Legolas always readily jump ahead, and tided the others over, catching them at the other side.  This he did as Greenleaf covered their retreat with his guns, as goblins that surrounded the area fired arrows at them.

      Soon, they came upon the Bridge of Khazad-dum, and it almost leered at them, its narrow pass inviting them forward and all at once threatened them with the steep fall of its narrow sides.

      One by one, the fellowship passed it, with Gandalf holding the flank as he insisted, and Greenleaf lagging just in front of him.

      "Go!" Gandalf commanded him, "Fly!"

      "Fear not, Mithrandir," he said softly, and their eyes met for an incomprehensibly intimate moment, before Greenleaf turned away and ran, and Gandalf turned to face the fiery Balrog, his grey robes whipping about him as he summoned his powers.

      "You cannot pass!" he commanded, as the burning figure loomed mightily and menacingly over his seemingly bedraggled, old form.  The air cackled with his energy as he slammed his staff against the bridge, shouting, "You.  Shall Not.  Pass!"

      The bridge collapses where Gandalf struck, and as it falls into the abyss, it takes the Balrog down with it.  Gandalf watches with tired satisfaction as it fell, and turned to follow his companions when the whips of the Balrog ensnared his legs, sending him dangling over the edge, precariously balanced and straining to keep from falling.

      "Gandalf!" came Frodo's anguished yell as he stepped forward to hurriedly aid the wizard, restrained by Boromir's mighty arms.

      "Fly you fools!" Gandalf said, wide-eyed, just as he lost his grip and fell with the enemy that he had defeated.

      The rest of the fellowship watched in stunned disbelief, unmoving save for Boromir who tightly held the wriggling Frodo.  Aragorn himself was rooted to the ground, before he raised his head to look towards Greenleaf, whose eyes were set and afire.

      "Do as Mithrandir commanded," he said quietly.

      Aragorn stared at him for a moment, stunned by Gandalf's loss and then too by his friend's coldness, before the assault of more arrows penetrated his senses and he hurriedly led the fellowship away from the bridge, away from its despair, and out towards the blinding sunlight of the East Gate, as they exited Moria at last.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. Lorien

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART FIVE: Lorien

East Gate of Moria

January 15, 3019, the Third Age

      "Should we expect a recovery much like Frodo's, Legolas?" Pippin asked Greenleaf eagerly, almost with a sad hopeless desperation in his eyes.  He had called the future-elf by his true name, for hobbits were wont to forget some things, such as the deal to call him Greenleaf instead.  He had meant no harm by it, and it came instinctively to him, with little thought.  But Legolas' heart wrenched at the pointed remembrance that this future elf was himself, this was his fate, and these were the acts that would one day make him, and he cannot accept it.  He cannot even _stomach_ it.  It was not possible.  This was not him…

      "No, Pippin," Legolas replied for Greenleaf stonily, as he stalked towards his future self and grabbed him by the collar of his coat, "You knew this would happen.  I can see it in your eyes.  And yet you did nothing.  How could you do nothing? _I_ would have done something.  _I_ would have kept him from falling.  _I_ would not have let him perish there!"

      Greenleaf met his eyes coolly, before glancing at the rest of the fellowship whose teary eyes guaranteed they shared the same aching questions, the same broken feelings that he had betrayed them.  His heart hardened, angered and feeling betrayed in turn that they looked at him this way, with so little trust, with no forgiveness.  Even Aragorn did, in the depths of his heavily-thinking eyes.  For a moment he was tempted to play the villain they had all decided he was, and let them eventually find out for themselves that what he had done—or not done—was for the best.  _And let their guilt eat at them until they choked on it_…

      But he could not stand their lonely eyes and their heavy, potent grief.  He pulled away from Legolas, and stepped back.

      "I would not grieve for too long if I were you," he said quietly, "For Gandalf greater things are planned than and ending in the deeps of Moria.  All you need do is be patient and wait, it being that you cannot trust my promises.  He will find you.  Wait and see."

      Silence followed, filled with uncertainty, and a collective grief punctuated by Greenleaf's loneliness.  It was broken only by Aragorn as he wiped his sword clean and said, "By nightfall this place will be swarming with orcs.  We must reach the Woods of Lothlorien.  Let us move quickly."

* * *

Caras Galadhon

January 19, 3019, the Third Age

* * *

      They had stepped into the realm of Lorien welcomed by points of arrows and sharp-elf eyes that promised they would not miss.  It had been days past, and the fellowship was most relieved (to say the least) that their reception had been much improved since.

      The group had taken the time to recover their strength and spirit in the comfort of Lorien and the hospitality of Lady Galadriel and her court, clinging to Greenleaf's reassurances that Gandalf was indeed well and would eventually return.  While this did not cease their worrying completely, it still allowed for them to be lighter of heart.

      Gimli, for instance, seemed pasted to Legolas' side as he spoke of the beauty of the Lady Galadriel without end; quite the turnabout, for he suspected her of being a deceitful witch for the longest time, until he laid his eyes upon her but days ago.

      "I am starting to believe," sighed Legolas, "that I liked you much better when you disliked us."

      "Ah," said Gimli gamely, "I didn't know you liked me _at_ _all,_ elf.  I, however, still do very much dislike you, except I cannot find a worthy audience who would have a care for the Lady Galadriel as much as I in the fellowship.  Most are concerned by other things."

      "As am I, Gimli," said Legolas, although his lips quirked, and he heroically stood through the dwarf's excitement.

      ~It is good to see you smiling, _mellon_,~ Aragorn said, coming up towards the two.

      "Has anyone ever told you it is impolite to speak over my head like that?" Gimli growled.

      "How else do you wish us to speak, Master Dwarf," teased Legolas, "On our knees to level with your head?"

      "You know what I mean, you stupid elf," said Gimli, "It is impolite to be speaking in languages that leave me out!"

      "I'm sorry Gimli," Aragorn said mock-gravely, "I will remember."

      "Where lies your evil twin, Legolas?" Gimli asked, looking around, "I still cannot believe there are two of you.  As if it was not difficult enough to contend with one!"

      "He is hardly evil, Gimli," Legolas corrected, slighted, "I know not where he is.  And I care little for it."

      "The Lady Galadriel is satisfying her curiosity with him," Aragorn said, "She sees something in him that she cannot comprehend.  And it is rare for her to be so."

      "He is with the Lady Galadriel?" Gimli asked excitedly, looking around and turning his stout head from side to side.

      "And do not think to follow," Legolas said, quickly dashing his hopes, "It is an exchange even _I_ would not want to be a part of."

* * *

      Unfortunately, he was part of it, in a sense.

      Greenleaf stood confidently up to the penetrating gaze of the Lady, honest and true, ready to overcome scrutiny.  In more ways than one, he _needed_ her scrutiny.  He needed to be looked at from the inside-out, studied closely and watched, until they all knew to a certainty that all he spoke was true and real.

      "You are Legolas," she said in her musical voice, "I can sense it plainly enough.  But this future that you speak.  You say I was one of those that had sent you?"

      "Yes, my lady," he replied, "You and Lord Elrond.  You had built a machine that defies time."

      "That curious thing upon your arm," she said, nodding towards it, "You would not ever remove it.  For anything."

      "It is what keeps me who I am," he replied, touching the thin black band reverently, "It is that which allows me to remember all that I know, even futures that are yet to happen and those that I might change by my actions here.  This band exempts me from the conditions of this time, so to speak.  It also connects me to my own time, that which allows me to return from where it once that I had come."

      "I see," she said, eyeing it curiously, "Clever."

      They fell into a moment of silence, this time with Greenleaf devouring her with his eyes, "Do you believe me, Lady Galadriel?"

      "I find it hard not to," she admitted, "What can this evil little ring do against Yuno, Legolas? I imagine any brother of Eru's would not be easily felled."  
      "Yuno is the Destroyer," replied Greenleaf, "But he cannot destroy that which does not seem to exist.  The invisibility allowed by the ring can bring us close to him, where he is vulnerable, near to his heart.  And then once near, its power can also aid us to slay him."

      "Curious," Galadriel said thoughtfully, "I have long believed that if the ring weren't destroyed, all would end.  And now you say if it were destroyed, it seems that we are anyway headed towards the same destiny."

      "We call it 'damned if you do, damned if you don't'," Greenleaf said wryly, "But we manage to still fervently hope that this would not be the case.  We cannot _not_ act upon the slightest possibility that we have a chance at success."

      "I know," she said softly, her hand reaching out to touch his own, "Yours is a lonely road, Legolas.  And a brave one to take.  You are wise with your years.  I know why _I_ would rely on you for such an endeavor.  Your heart is strong, though I could almost promise you that it will break with your burden.  Still…I do not think you will fail us."

* * *

      Later in the night, Legolas found himself walking around the beautiful woods, and their stunning sight and strange, resounding vitality seemed to lend him solace, at least for awhile.

      "Take some rest," he heard Aragorn's quiet, soothing voice in the near distance, beyond the trees, "These borders are well protected."

      He began to step towards his friend's voice, but paused midway when he heard who it was Aragorn was speaking to.

      "I will find no rest here," Boromir said fervently, sounding tortured.  Legolas' brows furrowed in thought.  There was a despair about his voice that was unmistakably real, and there was desolation in it, hopelessness…

      ~His anguish will push his hand,~ Greenleaf said, stepping towards Legolas, who had been so absorbed by his thoughts that he did not sense the other elf coming.

      ~Push his hand?~ Legolas asked guardedly, quietly, so that the two humans nearby would not hear them converse.  He was looking at his future self intently, wondering where the truths ended and the lies began, wondering up to what point he would help them, then deceive them and take from them what is theirs to destroy.

      ~You heard his voice,~ Greenleaf replied, ~You know what I mean.~

      ~But Boromir is a good man,~ Legolas argued, ~And he loves the hobbits dearly.~

      ~We are all of us pushed by this cruel fate,~ said Greenleaf.

      ~And what would your fate push you to do?~ Legolas snapped, ~Should I expect arrows upon my back any time soon?~

      ~No,~ answered Greenleaf coolly, ~If you die, so do I.  So at least, not _your_ back.~

      Legolas set his jaws in annoyance and looked away.  ~I do not know what to do with you.~

      ~I know,~ said Greenleaf, ~No one does.  Even the Lady Galadriel is torn.  The Ring must be destroyed.  But it must be preserved.  And it cannot be both, and it cannot be none.  And we are all of us caught in between.  What a heartless joke.~

      They fell into silence for awhile, uncertain about each other.  It seemed that Legolas was willing to set aside his heavy guard this night, feeling deeply at odds, wanting to talk about other things, things that were easier to understand, like Gimli and his crazy infatuation, and Pippin and his time-machine fantasies.

      ~If I had me a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want,~ Legolas sighed as he offered Greenleaf a tentative smile, ~I would not return to these darkest of days.~

      ~It's strange,~ said Greenleaf, needing to hold fast to that dim, little proffered twinkle in the other's eyes, their first true understanding since they had set eyes on each other, ~When I was preparing to leave the future, I almost could not wait.~

      ~You mean to say this will be the best and most prized of my days?~ Legolas chuckled wearily, ~You _are_ the bearer of ill-tidings indeed.~

      Greenleaf smiled, and pursed his lips, carefully considering his words, ~In a sense, to return in time to correct things is more a blessing than a burden.  It's a second chance, of sorts.  And not just for me.~

      Legolas looked at him suspiciously, ~What do you mean?~

      ~I understand that some fates must remain undisturbed,~ said Greenleaf, ~Like Gandalf's.  That is a fall I should not prevent, because it has its own great consequences.  But there are other falls.  Sometimes, death seems so… unnecessary.~

      ~One more of the fellowship will fall,~ Legolas concluded softly.

      ~In more ways than one,~ confirmed Greenleaf, ~I need you to do something for me.  Let Boromir do as he pleases, but _never_ tear your eyes away from him.  Do not let him die.  That is all that you must do, and _nothing_ else.  Do you understand this?~

      ~No,~ Legolas admitted, ~Why must I help you? Aren't you trying to get us to fail?~

      ~I am still you, Legolas,~ said Greenleaf wearily, ~Think about it.  I must not fail, but I will try and spare any of you from any pain, as long as I am able.~

      ~And while you press this duty against me,~ said Legolas tightly, ~What would you be doing in the meantime?~

      _Running after Frodo to _take_ the ring_.

      ~Let us put it this way,~ Greenleaf said instead, ~Knowing Boromir will die if you did not do as I said, does it really matter so much to you?~

      Legolas' eyes narrowed in irritation, but said nothing.  Now more than ever did he understand that _Knowing the future was almost an unbearable thing_…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. Deceptions

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART SIX: Deceptions

Down the River Anduin

February 16, 3019, the Third Age

      The sound of the boats as they quietly shifted away from the banks of the river and swayed gently with its steady currents was quiet and comforting as the fellowship rode them, away from the safety of Lorien and towards their path beyond, obscured by the thick morning mists as surely as it was muddled with uncertainty.

      The dwarf, however, was aggrieved by something other than their leave of Lorien and its guarded borders; he sighed and the boat he shared with Legolas and Greenleaf shook with it, as he lamented having to tear his eyes away from Lady Galadriel.

      The compact dwarf sat between the two elves, to keep the boat literally and figuratively balanced.  His bulk spelled the distance between the awkward Legolases and was as much a physical boundary, as a psychological, most-welcome distraction.

      Aragorn, from the boat that traveled alongside theirs, watched in amusement as the lips of the identical elves quirked at exactly the same instance.

      "I asked for one hair from her golden head," said Gimli, "She gave me three!"

      "She gave me a bow of the Galadhrim," shared Legolas, "and the hobbits daggers and ropes."  He stopped short of asking Greenleaf what he got, and this was a question Gimli picked up and worded for him.

      "She gave me her trust," Greenleaf said after a moment of thought, _That which I most needed_, specifically because he felt that time was near running out for him to take the Ring, and only he knew it.  The Fellowship was soon to break, and there would lie his best chance to forcibly obtain the Ring, if he still cannot convince them by the time they reach Parth Galen.

* * *

      "If I had me a machine—"

      "Pip!" Merry protested, the length of the river ride has long since waned his excitement, coupled with Pippin's incessant chatter.  He shared his boat with Boromir, who paddled, and Pippin who…talked.  Merry glanced at the large man, who seemed distracted and deep in thought.  The further along their journey he went, the more distant he seemed, and it worried the perceptive hobbit.  Any being that _cannot_ be diverted from their worries by the thrice-more-troublesome Pippin must have an awful lot in his mind indeed.

      "Boromir, are you scared?" Merry asked him, peering at his face.

      The man flashed him a quick, apologetic smile, "We all are at times, Merry.  Even the bravest of us."

      "What are you thinking about?" Pippin asked, playing absently with the water, twirling his fingers at the swirls they made as they moved through it.

      "Many things," replied Boromir, "my home, which we are nearing.  The danger that lies alongside of it.  The peril we will be making our way through."

      "Worse than Moria?" Pippn inquired.

      "Far worse," said Boromir, "We will be delving into the very realm of Sauron himself."  The two hobbits mulled this over, as Boromir deigned to tell them of the dangers that have long been stirring inside his own heart, tormenting his mind; that the Fellowship lain under perils closer than Mordor, more from the inside than out.

      "If I had me a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want…" Pippin began.  And this time, Merry did let him continue of these words that mattered less, and tore the mind away from its greater fears.

* * *

Parth Galen

February 26, 3019, the Third Age

* * *

      The Fellowship paddled towards the western shores of the Anduin, making camp at Parth Galen even as Legolas felt the stirrings of orcs about and desired to hasten their departure.  He would glance at Greenleaf once in awhile, always as if on the verge of asking if indeed his feelings would eventually prove to be true, and yet always holding his tongue and keeping his distance.

      Greenleaf would meet his intent gaze but would say nothing, occupied by his own worries.  The Fellowship was near breaking.  If he cannot convince them to trust him soon, the best time to forcibly take the ring would be when only Sam and Frodo were about, for he can assault them easily without harming them too much, and take the ring without having to battle the mightier members of the fellowship, such as Gimli, Aragorn, Boromir or Legolas himself.

      The thought of the deception tore at him, and he kept his quiet and distance, needing the solitude.  He stood apart from the others and occupied himself with the making of a camp that he knew would be futile in only moments.

      "We cross the lake at nightfall," Aragorn declared, "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

      Gimli protested, long having an idea of the dangers of their route, but the long river ride giving him the time to seriously consider them, such that he now found the idea to be profoundly disagreeable.  Aragorn, however, would not be dissuaded, even by Legolas' urging that they must leave at once and with great haste.  

      "Orcs patrol the eastern shore," Aragorn reasoned, "We must wait for cover of darkness."

      "It is not the eastern shore that worries me," Legolas told him gravely, quietly, "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near.  I can feel it."

      "Where's Frodo?" Merry suddenly asks, looking about worriedly.  The rest of the fellowship did the same, and more than a few pair of eyes rested against Boromir's shield, lying with his baggage and for once not in his presence, for the man himself was gone.

      Legolas' eyes shot towards Greenleaf, who was looking at him gravely, and knowingly.  Setting his jaws, the younger elf turned away and headed towards the forest that lined the banks of the river, determined to look for Boromir and Frodo.

      The other members of the fellowship scattered to do the same, but Greenleaf stayed where he was, and even sat calmly before the water, watching its tiny stirrings with a hard heart.

* * *

      "None of us should wander alone, you least of all," Boromir said to the Ringbearer, finding him amidst the woods, "So much depends on you. Though I do know why you seek solitude. You suffer, I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take."

      "I know what you would say. And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart," said Frodo cautiously.  It was this same warning in his heart that allowed him to know to a certainty that being alone with Boromir and his lost eyes and his anguished despair guaranteed trouble, one that he wanted desperately to flee from.

      Such a danger was not lost upon their solitary watcher.  Legolas hid amidst the woods, observing and listening to the exchange with burning eyes and feet that ached to approach them, to cease what he perceived would soon be an embittered exchange.  But if he did not expressly trust Greenleaf, he at least trusted his knowledge of the future, and he held his ground, wondering what relevance this confrontation would eventually hold for the future of Middle-Earth.

      Legolas tensed as Boromir stepped towards Frodo saying, "If you would but lend me the ring…"

      "No," said Frodo, backing away.

      Legolas held his breath as he watched Boromir's eyes flare in a great hunger, his voice begin to rise, his spirit begin to sink, "What chance do you think you have? They will find you! They will take the Ring and you will beg for death before the end!"

      Frodo began to run away, and Boromir with his long stride easily overpowered the hobbit with his little legs, and tackled him, saying, "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It could have been mine! It should be mine! Give it to me!"

      Legolas had to close his eyes for a moment, begging for strength from within him, wanting to interfere, fearing what would happen if he did, fearing what would happen if he didn't.  Such hesitations Greenleaf must have long harbored, and it made his mind reel and his heart ache.  

      _Let Boromir do as he pleases,_ Greenleaf had said, _but never tear your eyes away from him.  Do not let him die.  That is all that you must do, and nothing else…_

_      Why_? Legolas wondered, as he watched the hobbit struggle, until he finally slid the ring into his fingers and vanished, leaving a despairing Boromir, who now hated what he had just done alongside his hatred of his gnawing helplessness.

      "What have I done…" Boromir whispered, his reason returning as he looked anxiously about him, "Frodo! Frodo!"

* * *

      The hobbit in question hurriedly removes the ring from a safe distance, and runs across Aragorn who worriedly inquires about him.

      "It has taken Boromir," he said mournfully.

      "Where is the ring?" Aragorn asked.

      "Stay away," Frodo told him shakily, the wounds of his heart from Boromir's attack still fresh, and deathly fearful.

      "I swore to protect you," Aragorn told him earnestly.

      "Can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo challenged, opening his palm up towards Aragorn challengingly.  Though it undoubtedly called upon his greatest hungers and teased at his most terrible needs, the Ranger reached towards Frodo's hands and clasped them over the Ring.

      "I would have gone with you to the end," Aragorn told him quietly, seeing in the hobbit's wide, scared but determined eyes what he meant to do, and comprehending it for all that it was worth, "Into the very fires of Mordor."

      "I know," Frodo said softly, "Look after the others, especially Sam.  He will not understand."

      Aragorn's eyes burned with steely resolve, just as he sensed orcs about, and hurriedly drew his sword.

      "Go on Frodo," he urged as the uruks came out towards them from the woodworks, "Run!"

* * *

      The hobbit dashed across the forest, the sense of his enemy's raging hot pursuit behind him lending fire to his step, desperation in his breath.  He ran and stumbled and rose and fell and never stopped, until he hid against an old log, finding Merry and Pippin similarly situated a few meters away.

      "Frodo!" Merry called, as he and Pippin urged the Ringbearer towards them.

      "Hide here, quick!" said Pippin insistently.

      Frodo could do no more but look at them in a pained farewell, wordless, aching for their company, all at once aching to leave them, understanding what he had to do.

      "What's he doing?" Pippin asked Merry, alarmed.

      Merry's eyes stayed upon the Ringbearer, knowing by his face what it all meant, and what he and Pippin must do in turn.

      "He's leaving," Merry concluded.

      "No," Pippin exclaimed, surging forward towards Frodo, except Merry grabbed him midway and told Frodo to run away, just before he flagged down the orcs that began to come towards their direction.

      "Hey!" he yelled, "Hey you! Over here!"  
      Pippin joined him, not really immediately comprehending why, until the uruks turn towards them, and Merry began to pull him towards the direction opposite from Frodo's.

      "It's working!" Pippin said, knowing it was crazy and still feeling somewhat delighted that their plan was well at work.

      "I know its working!" Merry exclaimed, his voice near-shaking from his triumph and wild fear, "Run!"

      But two hobbits against a troupe of Uruk-hai was a massacre waiting to occur, at best.  And as the mighty beasts closed in around them, dread began to fill their pounding hearts, until Boromir charged in their defense.

      Meters behind him, Legolas could only watch, wondering where his responsibilities of letting things happen as they should would end, his fingers itching to make use of his bow.  And yet Greenleaf's words still haunted him, _Do__ not let him die… that is all you must do and nothing else…_

      The multitude of orcs had the upper-hand, despite the human's fierce strength and will.  Merry and Pippin did all that they could, and Legolas watched with tortured eyes, knowing most of their efforts would soon be futile.

      He ached to act, and yet he feared he would cause more harm than good.  And then distrust began to blossom in his torn heart, perhaps Greenleaf was merely deceiving him, confusing him, and would make him _watch _his friends die before his eyes, his hands never lifting to even try and save them, like a fool, like a useless idiot.

      Gritting his teeth, he drew his bow and decided to move, and just in time it was since he had spotted a particularly menacing uruk-hai releasing an arrow towards Boromir's heart.

      With unearthly precision that was the envy of even the most skilled of his kin, Legolas released an arrow of his own, and it captured the uruk's shaft along its path, splintering it in two and it exploded near to Boromir's stunned face.

      Running into the fray, Legolas downed a few more or the uruks, even as drove after drove of them attacked, taking Merry and Pippin with them and running, with more of their great mass blocking their escape as Boromir and Legolas struggled for pursuit, and then ultimately, just _survival_.

* * *

      Frodo emerged from the thick of the forest to where they had hidden the boats in front of the river, and found Greenleaf with his back to the hobbit, sitting by the banks and obviously awaiting his arrival.

      "You have come to take it from me," Frodo concluded, backing away cautiously and clutching at the ring, ready to wear it and hide and flee at a moment's notice.

      "I knew you would be by," Greenleaf said stonily, rising slowly and turning to face the Ringbearer, "This can be easy, or this can be really, very hard."

      "I will _never_ give it to you," Frodo told him, "We are both of us on a mission, and mine is particularly prone to deception.  As surely as you cannot give up on your quest, I cannot give up mine.  You must understand that this ring will never fall into your hands as I live and breathe!"

       Greenleaf's eyes narrowed, but allowed Frodo the space he kept, as the two burdened heroes faced each other.  Cautiously, Frodo stepped towards the boats, just as Greenleaf moved closer to the brink of the forest, awaiting the arrival of Frodo's one weakness…

      Perfect to the timing, Sam emerged breathlessly from the woods in time for Greenleaf to grab him and clutch him tightly, pressing the gleaming blade of a _mithril_scimitar threateningly against his throat.

      "Give me the ring," Greenleaf told the Ringbearer, struggling to keep his voice cold and level, "Or the gods save me, I will cut him wide open!"

TO BE CONTINUED…


	8. Truer Betrayals

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART SEVEN: Truer Betrayals

Parth Galen

February 26, 3019, the Third Age

      Surely enough, Frodo did stop and think at this, and seemed to steel himself as he looked intently at the elf that held his dear friend Sam, and that blade that rested so near to his tender skin.

      "Master Frodo, no…" Sam whispered, gulping carefully and feeling the cold blade touch his flesh, "Master Frodo," he said, clearing his throat and strengthening his voice, "Please just go! Just go!"

      Frodo looked at his friend with those bleeding, deep eyes, "Sam… I cannot.  I cannot."

      "He will not kill me," Sam said stoutly, his lie bold to his ears, "He is _still_ Legolas, after all.  He will not kill me."

      Frodo looked away from Sam, and towards Greenleaf, whose heart wrenched at the hobbit's faith.  But he needed to be stronger.  He must not fail.  He needed to be stronger.  He needed to be cold.  Or at least, he needed them to believe he was.

      Frodo began to turn away to prepare the boat, but stopped once again when Greenleaf drew the blade closer to Sam's neck and drew a thin line of blood.

      "Give me the ring," he said sternly, even as his eyes watered and his vision blurred with his struggling tears, "Give me that cursed ring, Frodo, or only the Valar can stay my hand.  I _will_ cut him, and you can watch him die before your eyes!"

      "You will not," Frodo told him softly, though he did draw the chained ring from his neck, and looked at it intently, weighing it with his heart.

      "Take it and go!" Sam yelled at Frodo, "Please, Master Frodo… Just take it, and go, and _never_ look back!"

      Frodo's grip tightened against the ring, and he stepped forward, towards Greenleaf.

      "I will give you the ring, _Legolas_," he said softly, "not because I believe you would kill Sam.  He is a friend to you, and so am I, and I _cannot_ believe you would subject us to _any_ pain.  If I turned away from here and fled this place to continue this quest on my own, you will still not harm a hair on his head.  Nor shoot your well-marked arrows upon my back.  You _will not_."

      Greenleaf opened his mouth to protest, but Frodo was not done, and no words could come from his taut-voice anyways.  The tears now fell freely from his eyes, and his entire body shook with his failed restraint, with the weight of his burden.

      "But still I will yield to your command," Frodo continued, taking more careful steps forward, "Because I've seen how you value our trust and regard--our _friendship_—and how greatly does your heart break at the thought of losing it, at risking its loss.  If you are so willing to give away what your eyes tell me matters all of the world to you, then this must belong in your hands, and not in mine."

      Greenleaf closed his eyes, caught his breath and lowered his arm and let his weapon fall dully to the ground.  Sam stepped away from him cautiously, as his knees buckled beneath him, with his spirit broken, and bared wide open.  He lowered his head, as the Ringbearer stood before him, and thrust the One Ring into his slack hands, as surely as he had placed all his trust into it.

      Greenleaf looked up at Frodo tearfully, and closed his anguished eyes as the hobbit reached his hands forward and touched at his tears.

      "I have never seen an elf cry," he said quietly.

      __

_      Neither have I_, thought Greenleaf, as he closed his shaking hands upon the Ring.

      "I must go," he said to the hobbits quietly, rising to his feet and drawing a piece of cloth from one of his pockets, handing it to Sam but shamefully refusing to meet his eyes, "It is not deep.  But there is no excuse.  I am sorry."

      Sam took it cautiously, "Legolas…"

      "I must go," he said again, turning his face away from them, and pressing at the silver buttons on the band upon his wrist.  Closing his eyes, he waited for the machine to bear him away, as the hobbits watched…

      He opened one eye.  And then the other.  And he found Sam and Frodo looking at him expectantly.  Frowning, he pressed at the silver buttons again, thinking perhaps he did something wrong.  This second effort was still to no avail.  The third yielded the same disappointing and embarrassing nothingness, and so did the fourth and the fifth.  

      Laughing bitterly as he began to realize the wild flaw and tragic comedy of the situation, he sat on the ground and covered his teary eyes with his hands as he laughed, the warm slick liquid of his crying staining the ring, so eager was he to defy it, and defile it, maybe throw it, or eat it, or even break it with his teeth.

      "Legolas?" Frodo asked him uncertainly.

      Sighing, the elf opened up his palm at the Ringbearer and offered him the ring, eager to return it.

      "Life is funny," he said, his shoulders shaking as he began to laugh and struggle not to cry.

      Frodo took it uncertainly, and looked at Greenleaf with confusion and worry.

      "_You_ must leave after all," Greenleaf said, trying to keep a straight face, "_I_ on the other hand, have absolutely nowhere to go."

      "I do not understand," Frodo admitted.

      "Neither do I," sighed Greenleaf, "You must go and fulfill your duty, Ringbearer.  They are coming, and once they reach you, they might not find the heart to let you go, and that is not the way of things.  Take Sam with you.  He is good company.  Be strong."

      "I do not understand," Frodo said again.

      "You must leave," Greenleaf told him fervently, "Go.  This quest is yours to fulfill.  Go."

      His brows furrowing, Frodo nevertheless prepared the boats and left the shores alongside Sam.  The two hobbits watched the weary elf sitting upon the rocky shore they had left, still chuckling at himself and shaking his head in dismay all at once.  

      Greenleaf watched them dock upon the eastern shore, just as Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli emerged from the woods.  The elf immediately set to work upon laying one of the boats into the water, sighting Sam and Frodo across the way.  It is at this time that he noticed he is the only one actually making an effort at pursuit.

      "You mean not to follow them?" he asked Aragorn, even as reading the Ranger's face already gave him the answer.

      "Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn declared.

      "I'm surprised _you_ are not practically swimming across that water to take the ring," Legolas said, eying Greenleaf, whose nose was as red-tipped as his eyes were red-rimmed, and a manic kind-of air surrounded him, full of disappointment and unhappiness, even as he smiled up at his younger self sickly, "Or is having been left here the reason why you are laughing and crying yourself into a stupor?" 

      "Frodo gave me the ring," Greenleaf said, and all eyes of the remaining fellowship shot to him in shock, "And the funny thing is, I've already said my dramatic farewells, and my blasted machine would not work.  How embarrassing.  I decided to give it back."

      "You mean you can no longer return to the future?" asked Boromir.

      "It's good to see the dead do talk," Greenleaf said wryly, the joke to be comprehended only by Legolas, who knew how close the human had come to his end, "Either my blasted machine is broken, which I doubt.  Or… there is _no_ future to return to if that ring is not destroyed."

      Aragorn's brows furrowed.  "You mean…"

      "I mean I wasted all my time," Greenleaf retorted bitterly, "What a tasteless joke.  How sick of Eru, truly.  If the ring is not destroyed now, there is no future for me to return to.  But if the ring were destroyed, I _cannot_ save the future from Yuno.  Life is funny.  And so unbearably _long_."

      "What is there for you to do now?" Boromir asked.

      Greenleaf shrugged.  "I can stay here and burden you with my unbearable presence and for the next few thousand years exempt myself from the inevitable ravages of Yuno, or I can return to the future and die within the hour.  What would you do?"

      Aragorn exhaled, hating the anguished defeat that those once and oft-determined eyes now held.  He opened his mouth to say something, but Greenleaf cut him off.

      "Aragorn," he said coldly, "I needn't have been from the future to know your face when you are about to say something incredibly positive and so madly encouraging.  Do.  Not.  For the Valar's sake."

      "We can only move forward as we know it, Legolas," Aragorn said, intentionally calling him by his true name, and expressly rejecting his profoundly impolite request, "We can only hold true to each other at this point, when such greater decisions are beyond us.  The ring is out of our hands.  The future you seek to protect is now _apparently_ out of your hands after all.  But we… we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left.  This is all the future that I know and care to see. Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let's hunt some orc!"

      Greenleaf waved his hands tiredly at Aragorn's resolve and enthusiasm, "I wouldn't worry about them.  We can wait awhile.  They and their capture have their own part to play and the gods spare us, their own trouble to make.  Do you know that ultimately, it is that pair who will cause the fall of Isengard?"

      Boromir's eyes widened in disbelief.  "Truly? And what does the future hold for me?"

      "You and I are both about to find out," Greenleaf said, rising from his place and uselessly dusting at his clothes.

      "You mean to say—" Boromir began, starting to think about what that statement must mean.

      "Don't worry about it," Greenleaf told him soothingly, trying to strengthen his own spirit for the long road he was sure was ahead of him, if this path he indeed would choose to take again, for lack of anything else better to do.

      "So you're going to relive all this all over again?" Gimli asked him, his expressive eyes clouding.

      "Maybe things will be different," Legolas said, sounding uncertain and not very hopeful at all.  But he had taken pity on himself at last, at the ridiculously unfair situation that he now faced, and faced mostly alone.

      "I doubt it," said Greenleaf, "And I doubt they should be."

      "You know," said Boromir, as the group began to pack their belongings for the pursuit of Merry and Pippin's captors, "If I had a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want, I would go back to Dagorlad and the Last Alliance, and throw the Ring away.  And all respect to your kin, Aragorn, for he too is my King, but if he refused, I'd have tossed him into the fires of Mordor with it."

      "I hardly detect any respect there at all," Aragorn said wryly, though he took no offense and saw the logic of what the man had said.  He was the first to notice Greenleaf pause from fixing his things, as if struck by a thought.  "Greenleaf?"

      "Thank the Valar you live, Boromir!" he exclaimed, light returning to his tired eyes.

      "I'm quite thankful myself," Boromir said uncertainly, glancing at Legolas, and then his manic version, "What are you thinking?"

      "This is how history unfolds, all right?" Greenleaf said excitedly, gathering his thoughts, "The ring is made.  The ring is destroyed.  Yuno arrives years later.  And he destroys everything, for nothing can stop him but the long-gone ring.  Correct?"

      "So you say," Aragorn said cautiously, wondering where this was going.

      "This is how history _must_ unfold if we all desire to live at the end," continued Greenleaf, "The ring is made.  Yuno arrives.  Yuno is defeated by the ring.  The ring is thereafter destroyed.  However… Yuno would have no future to arrive in if the ring were not destroyed before him, right? Because Sauron would have overtaken us with his forces? I am thinking… I am thinking…" his brows furrowed, "I'm almost forgetting what I am thinking… I am thinking… if I can _bring_ Yuno to the past.  If I can bring Yuno to the past, defeat him _with_ the ring, and then destroy the ring right after.  Then all will be well!"

      "What does this have to do with what Boromir had just said?" Gimli asked.

      "I know precisely which past to return with Yuno to," said Greenleaf, "If I returned him here, then we would have to contend not only with the joint forces of Saruman and Sauron at their strongest, but him too.  I am thinking, I could bring Yuno to right after Isildur has cut the ring from Sauron's hand, near Mount Doom.  At this time, Sauron is already defeated, and the ring is near to where it must be destroyed, and I can toss it into the fires immediately after I use it against Yuno.  Does this make sense?"

      "Yes, but," Legolas said, though he quickly bit his tongue, and it dawned onto Greenleaf precisely what he was going to say, exactly what he was thinking, at it gave the both of them a mutual grief that they knew they had to set aside.

      "Yes but what?" Gimli pressed.

      "Yes but nothing," Legolas said evasively, looking at Greenleaf with determined eyes.  They understood each other at the last.

      They both treasured the friendships they have gleaned from the Fellowship of the Ring.  But if the ring had been cast into Mount Doom long ago, none of their paths would have ever crossed.  They never would have known each other.  But it was also a price Legolas—as himself and as Greenleaf and as anyone else he ever was or ever would be—was willing to pay.  His heart for Arda.  His heart, for the very life of the friends he would lose completely, never to have them even as mere memories and ghosts.   

      "So be it," Aragorn said suddenly, and the two Legolases turned to him at the same time, their expressions identically momentarily stunned before melting into understanding of his keen perception.

      "It's time for me to leave," Greenleaf said.

      "Good luck," Legolas told him, hesitantly offering his hand to shake.  Greenleaf took it tightly, before turning to the others and letting his gaze rest upon them lingeringly, knowing it would be the last time he would see them, and fate would not even leave him with a memory.

      "Goodbye," Aragorn said, embracing him tightly, "I'll see you again," he lied, only because it sounded all the better for all of them.

      Greenleaf smiled at him wryly, understanding precisely what it was, but said nothing.  He flicked at the buttons upon his slim black band, and closed his eyes, and vanished before their very eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Tol Eressea

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART EIGHT: Tol Eressea

The Undying Lands,

The Near Future

      ~I did not return with it,~ were the first things out of his mouth, when he opened his eyes and blinked around him and tried to adjust to where he now was.

      ~I know,~ Lord Elrond said, ~I know the quest succeeded.~

      ~I could not return with it,~ Greenleaf—perhaps just _Legolas_ now, said, ~There would have been no future for us if it were not destroyed.~

      ~Then perhaps this doom is fated,~ said Elrond flatly, dispassionately.  Elves were not wont to admitting defeat, or helplessness.  They seldom had to.  As a matter of fact, not in his immediate recollection could he think of such a grievous time.

      ~Not yet,~ said Legolas fervently, ~Not yet, Lord Elrond.  Not all is lost.  I have a plan.~

* * *

      His life was beginning to seem like a multiplicity of unsightly events that occurred over and over.

      He stood beside Lord Elrond in the port of Alqualonde in Eldamar, Legolas watching the waves recede before his booted feet, and the ominous clouds preceding the arrival of Yuno crawl towards them as he had but… days or centuries ago.  But as was always the case, there was something slightly different in the situation, and he watched wistfully as the last of the Teleri ships that emptied the ravaged Middle-Earth of all its few survivors docked.  Stunned and bedraggled men, women and children looked about them, at these strange, legendary elves who had emerged from their untouched paradise to aid them.  

      "This is all of them?" Legolas asked.

      "Yes," Elrond replied mournfully, "Perhaps we acted too late."

      "It is never too late," said Legolas, "If there is one thing that I learned from all this madness."

      "Tol Eressea is also completely vacated now," said Elrond, "All who have ever lived in Arda are now here, or deeper into Aman in Valinor.  The Lonely Isle belongs completely to you."

      The isle was actually a ship that was made to transport the Teleri elves towards Eldamar in the Undying Lands.  But seeing their love of the sea, Ulmo ceased the transport and let them stay in the bay of Eldamar, within sight of their kin, hence the name of Lonely Isle.  Sailing from Middle-Earth into the West, one passed Tol Eressea first and this was why Legolas wanted it freed; Yuno would have to come through the isle before reaching the other lands beyond, and there he would be accosted.

      "All that I need is there?" Legolas asked.

      "Yes," replied Lord Elrond, "And more."

      Legolas nodded, and glanced at one of the ships that were docked, waiting to transport him to Tol Eressea.  "I do not understand Eru's ways, Lord Elrond.  Where is he in these times?"

      "His will is more often unknown," said Elrond, "but you must not question his goodness."

      "Nay, I do not," said Legolas wearily, "but… I just do not understand.  He leaves us so empty.  I've long had so little, and his ways take what there is left.  I have nothing."

      Lord Elrond looked at him intently, devouring the elf with his eyes.  "Legolas… he simply gives us a free hand and lets us become what we will.  I think he can look upon you and find you one of the best of his children.  Do not lose faith, or hope.  Success is nothing if your heart is gone.  Such as this Paradise is useless to you if you are unhappy in it, and long have I seen you to be so.  I do not even know why you do what you do for us.  Because you live as if it were only a habit.  Although… you fight as if your miserable paradise were worth saving."

      "I can only move forward as I know it," he said quietly, quoting Aragorn's words.

      Lord Elrond looked away, wistful.  "If you succeed, have you thought about what awaits your return?"

      "Yes," Legolas replied, "Nothing awaits my return.  Not you, not this machine, not even myself, because this future as I know it will never come to pass.  Whether or not I fail or succeed, I will have nothing in the end.  Whether I stay here or went.  As I said.  I do not understand.  But you needn't fear, Lord Elrond.  I will try my hardest."

      "I know."

      With a nod, Legolas turned away from Elrond and stepped into the smaller Teleri ship that was docked for his use.  The elves about him were looking at him as if he were already dead and gone, and he could not bear their lonely gazes, so he kept his eyes towards the Lonely Isle, as his sure hands maneuvered the seas towards it.

      Minutes ago, the shores of Avallone facing East have been prepared for him and his mad plan.  The harshest of Manwe's winds and lightning and thunder would burst the skies open with their brutal force as Yuno makes his way past, and the craftiest of the Noldorin creations would harness his strength in its defiance of time and space, and take all that it touched with it back into the past.  The road to the Second Age was hard enough to begin with, and from there Legolas' battle would only have begun.

      The winds whipped about him as he docked, and he did not even bother to secure his ship after he stepped out of it for he knew there was no returning anyway.  Standing ashore, he felt the earth shake and the air cackle with suppressed power, and it seemed everything around him was stirring to life.  

      He took a deep breath and faced the approaching black clouds.

      _Come closer, Yuno_, he dared to think.

      "Come closer!" he bellowed, releasing his anger and frustration and hardening his heart.

      Yuno seemed to hear the challenge, or perhaps it was his own guilty mind playing tricks with him, but the clouds seemed to move faster, engulfing the skies, eating all the light, moving angrily towards him.

      As the darkness closed in, he punched at one of the machines that lay about the shore.  Thunder and lightning.  Blackness and fierce light.  A deafening boom, and an ominous silence.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. Ghost

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART NINE: Ghost

Mordor

3441 of the Second Age

      Just when all hope seemed lost, the enemy was felled by a broken sword, wielded by an almost broken spirit.

      Isildur seemed stunned at his own success, as the Ring fell from the hand of Sauron, who seemed to turn to light and ashes at his loss, downed and defeated.

      The ring lay smoldering near to the human's head, and as he reached for it, a strange elf clad in black had beat him to it by a hair, and he looked up in horror at who could be no other than a new villain.

      "I will return it in moments," the strange elf promised, just before he slipped the ring on and vanished from sight.  Around him, Isildur noticed a new darkness that he could not have thought possible, it being that he was in Mordor and Sauron had just fallen.

      "What was that?" he asked the elf beside him, Elrond, dumbfounded.

      "He is no elf that I know," Elrond said, puzzled.  He looked up at the black skies, "There is evil here that did not fall with Sauron."

* * *

      Legolas could tell by the way that Yuno's elements moved that the Destroyer was confused.  The clouds seemed to hover, as if they were looking about, trying to gain their bearings.  They hung low over the ground, blackening all that they touched and turning them into dust by Yuno's will.

      If he had a chance at all, it was _now_.

      The Ring lent him invisibility, and he ran through its borrowed reality, drawing his _mithril_ scimitars and determined for all of this madness to end _here and now_.  He ran through the low black clouds unscathed, for he was unseen and undetected.  It seemed eternal and thick and all at once gnawingly empty.  There was no up or down or left or right, just inky blackness that reminded him of closed eyes, or better yet, absolute blindness.  He was within Yuno's pitch-black coat, and in here somewhere was the Destroyer himself.

      The Destroyer could not see him, but Yuno knew he was there, and the blackness stirred with his distress.  Legolas suddenly felt radiantly hot, and all at once freezing cold.  He was dying inside and out, as Yuno's potent presence filled the inky void.  

      Legolas moved on, gritting his teeth, and he walked and walked and walked in seeming emptiness, until in the near distance he spotted a glowing flame, that began as tiny as a tear, and became larger as he moved towards it.  He hung onto it like a ray of hope, even as his body slowly began to fail him, and he stumbled.  Crying out, he rose quickly and began to run, angry and determined, and he ran and ran until the flame stood before him, and took a figure that can be likened to the shape of a man, or an elf.

      He charged against the figure with his scimitars raised.  He rose to the air, and caught the figure between the slashes of his blades at the descent.  The figure broke, and shattered in a booming, hollow shriek that seemed to catch his heart in an iron vise.

      Gasping at the assault, Legolas writhed in its grip, and the Destroyer seemed keen on taking his assassin with him into the depths of hell.  Still, he struggled.  And limp in its lethal embrace, he dared to weather the attack, as the blackness began to dim, and lighten.  From black to spotted gray, 'til it allowed for the clearing of the skies.

* * *

      When he opened his eyes, he did not even know that he had shut them, and he found himself lying on the ground, breathless and weak.  Shakily, he tore the ring from his finger, and watched as the world faded back into how it ought to have been, even if the sight were as foul as Mordor.  He gasped, and ached resoundingly everywhere.  He could not catch his breath.  He could barely move, could barely even think.  And in this did he know without a shadow of a doubt that his body was failing.

      The ravages of Yuno's attacks would be more than enough to quench all the life of him, and he laid upon the ground a smoldering ruin of who he had been, in more ways than one.  But there was time still to do as he had promised, time to do that which needed doing. 

      Elves and men seemed to converge around him, curious and cautious.  Past them moved a Lord Elrond that was younger than how Legolas had ever known him.  His brows were furrowed, confused at this strange elf who had come out of nowhere and vanished and felled an ink-black demon and now returned to them.  But the healer's heart in him compelled him to move forward, and kneel over the fallen elf and begin to tend him.

      "Do not… bother…," Legolas gasped, "Please.  Lord… El-rond," he struggled to say, as he grabbed at the other elf's hands and thrust the One Ring into them, "C-cast it… away.  Into Mordor… back from… where it… c-came.  C-cast it-t away… yourself.  B-by your own… hands…"

      "I do not understand," Elrond told him achingly, tightening his grip around the ring and around the stranger's hands, "Who are you? What happened here?"

      "It is-s all," he gasped, and even tried to smile with the ridiculousness of his fate, "His-story.  It all… ends… here.  And I… I am no one…"

      Releasing Elrond's hands, Legolas at last let his eyes close, and waited for death to claim him.

      _It is just as well._

      After what he had accomplished here, he knew he had no future to return to as himself, and he had no reason to live to go anywhere, and remember all these things that did not happen, and all these things that _would not_ happen.  They only uselessly lent him pain with his loss, a loss that only he knew, a loss that only he felt. A loss that only he _would ever_ know, only he _would ever _feel.

      _It all ends here_…

      _And some things wouldn't even ever begin_…

      Like the Fellowship, the singularly good thing that had arisen from all the evil that have plagued his life.  With the One Ring destroyed in this moment, the Fellowship never would have been formed.  He never would know Aragorn, and Gimli, and the Hobbits, and Boromir and Gandalf.   

      He never would have known the amusing idiocy and vibrancy of Pippin, the intelligence of Merry, the bravery of Samwise and the earnestness of Frodo.  He never would have known the quiet, soothing wisdom of Mithrandir, or the harsh honesty and brutal strength of Boromir.  

_      "If I had a time machine I would go straight to the moment when we leave this place."_

_      "If I had a time machine, I would go back to the time when you ever learned anything about time machines and shut your ears so you wouldn't keep talking about it."_

      "_All respect to your kin, Aragorn, for he too is my King, but if he refused, I'd have tossed him into the fires of Mordor with it."_

_      "I hardly detect any respect there at all."_

He never would have befriended a dwarf in a companionship to last the ages, he never even could have _imagined_ it.

      _"Do you know that we will be the dearest of friends in the end? That the world will never know a greater friendship than yours and mine?"_

_      Gimli's grip upon his axe tightened.  "Let's dice him right now.  Now we know for sure he is lying."_

      Estel never would have existed, because Isildur never would have been slain and the line never would have needed protection in Rivendell.  He never would have known Aragorn.

_      ~If I had me a machine that sends me all across time whenever I want,~ said Aragorn to Legolas with an inviting grin, ~I would go back to when I first met you and run in the other direction.~_

      Memories danced across his mind as he embraced his end, and in such thoughts only did he find warming comfort that he had long been deprived of.  Some of them were funny, some were stupid and theoretically offensive.  Some were kind and gracious, others wordless, some just words unaccompanied by pictures.  Some of them he knew well, others were so simple and trivial he had forgotten he remembered.

      _"I always knew I was meant for great things."_

_      "If you are so willing to give away what your eyes tell me matters all of the world to you, then this must belong in your hands, and not in mine."_

_      "They must have very little to do in the future to think of these things."_

_      "I still cannot believe there are two of you.  As if it was not difficult enough to contend with one!"_

      "_I have never seen an elf cry."_

_      "He does have a care for that head of hair, and he is probably upset that you cut it."_

_      "I'll see you again_…"__

      One by one and little by little, slow and fast did the thoughts come and fly, one right after the other, one _over_ the other in endless strings that each reminded him of at least ten instances more.  In this act did he say farewell to all of his dearest friends, and even to the only self that he had ever known, the self that he had best loved: the one that had been characterized by his compassion for them.  The self that he had become _because of_ them.  

      _Farewell_.

AN ENDING.


	11. The Latecomer, Reprise

Author: Mirrordance

Title: _Tempus Edax Rerum_ ("Time, the Devourer of All Things")

Summary: The Fellowship of the Ring runs across a time-traveling Legolas of the future whose mission is, strangely, to keep them from succeeding…

PART TEN: An Epilogue

The Latecomer, Reprise

Imladris

October 25, 3018, the Third Age

      The stranger was wearing clothes that were unknown in Rivendell, or in most places of Middle Earth.  They thought perhaps he was one of those reclusive elves from Greenwood by the looks of him, though he looked wildly familiar and it stirred their blood, all the more when he lowered his fur-lined hood and appeared to be a fair-haired elf with a disconcertingly beautiful face that they had only known from legend, except he was slightly different.

      His hair was golden and long, worn in the usual, braided fashion, and nothing should have been unusual about it, except it seemed to sit differently upon this face that they had long-known as having a shock of short, jaggedly-trimmed hair.  He would have looked exactly like a portrait in one of the paintings of the House library depicting the fall of the Dark Lord Sauron and the destruction of the Ring, except they knew that elf was long-dead and no one ever knew him in the first place. 

      The elf guards blocked the mysterious stranger's path, and sternly asked him what his business was in Rivendell.

      ~Last I heard,~ the stranger told them wryly, his irrepressibly humorous eyes the color of slate blue, as it was in the portrait, ~The hospitality of Lord Elrond is open to all those with a kind will.~

      The guards looked at each other, then back at him with suspicion.

      ~And such is yours?~ one of them asked.

      ~Yes,~ he replied easily.

      ~Who are you?~ another guard asked.

      ~Legolas,~ he replied, ~Prince of Greenwood, son of Thranduil.~

      ~Sire,~ said a guard, apologetic, ~Lord Elrond is presently closeted in a meeting of grave importance.  You might have to wait awhile.~

      ~If it is of the Council that you speak,~ said Legolas, ~I am invited.  It only happens that I am late.~

      ~We will lead you there at once,~ said one of the guards, ushering Legolas forward and sending a runner ahead of them to announce that the heir to Greenwood had just arrived.

      ~By the way,~ said Legolas, ~I just moved ahead of my escorts.  Please see to it that they are properly tended to.~

      ~Of course, sire,~ said the guard.

      ~Everyone is here?~ asked Legolas.

      ~Yes,~ replied Lord Elrond, who had met them at the door to a hall.  He was looking at Legolas with these curious, penetrating eyes.  He gave a subtle nod to the guard who left hastily, after tossing one last perturbed glance at the Prince.  Legolas watched him retreat with a look of confusion on his face, before he turned his attention towards the Lord of Imladris.

      ~I am sorry to be late, my lord,~ said Legolas, ~I meant no disrespect.  We were waylaid upon the road by some harsh rains.~

      ~Do not worry about it,~ Elrond said, and he tilted his head at the Prince and seemed to be watching him keenly.  Legolas bore the scrutiny good-naturedly, a slightly bewildered smile upon his face.

      ~This is my first time in Rivendell,~ said Legolas humorously, ~I was told that yours is a very hospitable house.  And I am starting to believe this is _truly, truly_ true."

      Lord Elrond's lips quirked to a hesitant smile.  ~Forgive me, ah… we are not always this way.  My runner caused a ruckus in the other room and told me he thought he had seen a ghost.~

      ~I'm sorry, Lord Elrond, I brought none with me that I know of.~

      ~Would you mind being just a little bit more late?~ Elrond asked earnestly, ~I wish to show you something.  Perhaps you can end one of the greatest mysteries of my life.~

      ~Of course,~ Legolas said, following as Lord Elrond led the way down some corridors, and into a room that appeared to be a vast library.  The older elf walked towards a wall, and motioned towards a painting that was predominantly in shades of blacks, grays and purples.  There were streaks of lightning overhead, and turbulent skies.  On the ashen, uneven grounds were bodies of the dead and living, elf and men alike.  

      ~I know of this tale,~ Legolas said quietly, appreciating the artist's fine hand, ~What elf or human does not?~

      ~Look closer,~ Lord Elrond invited.

      Legolas did as he was told, patient and curious.  His eyes trailed towards a figure that could not have been anyone but Isildur, wielding a broken sword.  He even spotted a younger Lord Elrond, and he smiled at the hero beside him, before turning towards other details of the piece.  It is at this time that he noticed one figure clad in strange black clothes that were unlike anyone else's.  He narrowed his eyes and frowned as he looked upon the being's face.

      ~He looks like you,~ Lord Elrond said, ~I still recall, how he had come seemingly from nowhere.  He took the Ring for awhile, defeated an ominously hovering evil that also seemed to have come out of nowhere, returned and then asked me to cast the ring away into the fires from which it was created.  He died soon after.~

      ~Who is he?~ Legolas asked.

      ~I was hoping you would know,~ Lord Elrond said.

      ~I do not,~ Legolas told him with an apologetic, affable smile, ~I am sorry.  It could not have been I.  I had not even been born at this time.~

      ~I know,~ Lord Elrond said, feeling slightly foolish, ~I suppose I could not help but wonder.  Perhaps a distant kin of yours.~

      ~I'll make sure to ask my _ada_,~ Legolas promised, ~Everyone is in the meeting?~

      ~Yes,~ Lord Elrond replied as he began to lead the way out of the library, casting just one last lingering look at the mysterious figure depicted in the portrait, ~I had left my own sons to conduct it for awhile.  I suppose it is best, since it is you young folk who would eventually be dealing with each other.~

      ~I am very interested in this venture indeed,~ said Legolas, ~Long have we been closeted in Greenwood, and while I cherish our woods greatly, I would not mind having the chance to learn about other countries and cultures.  This new trade route is a means towards this, and it is the most ambitious, expansive one of its kind, from far west to far east.  We are very interested indeed.  I go to this Council in my father's place, and all actions and promises I will make are therefore in his voice, and have the same authority.~

      ~Of course,~ said Elrond, ~Our other guests are similarly situated.  You might have heard of some of them.  The Heir to Gondor and Arnor is there, Aragorn with his friend and watcher, Boromir.  The Heir to Rohan, Theodred is there as well, with his cousin Eomer.  The son of one of the mightiest and wealthiest of dwarf lords is also in attendance, and his name is Gimli.  The Shire-folk have also come in force.~

      ~I understand their territory is quartered or some such thing?~ Legolas asked politely.

      ~Yes,~ replied Elrond, ~It is a strange ordering indeed, if I have ever heard of one.  But there is Peregrin Took, representing the Thain.  There is the next Master of Buckland, Meriadoc, and Frodo Baggins of Bag End, and the next Mayor, Samwise Gamgee.~

      ~It will be a most interesting route, I think,~ smiled Legolas, ~I am very pleased to be a part of this undertaking.  To whom is this brilliance to be attributed?~

      ~An old wizard who says he has nothing else to do,~ smiled Elrond as they stopped by the door to the meeting room.  He pressed his hands towards the knob and pushed the door forward.

THE END           

November 14, 2003 

SOME IMPORTANT NOTES:

On the plot.  It is one I could not stay away from when I had thought about it, though I did try because it is a complicated tale, and one that gave me a kind-of heavy feeling every time I tried to sit with it and work on it.  It eventually came into fruition because it was a persistent story in my mind and besides, first of all, it had two Legolases in one fic, which gives it twice the fun, haha.  Second, I wanted to have a big, wide-scale adventure that entails the same risks as Tolkien's LOTR—it's a lonely quest for Legolas, akin to Frodo's solitude as the Ringbearer-- and lastly, I wanted to give the characters this massive conflict regarding the fate of the One Ring, challenging their trust and regard for one another.  If the fic evokes a feeling of sadness and discomfort, it's probably because its theme and conflict is the same.  It's really centrally about a lonely fate, and a hunger for companionship.  It really is meant to be a kind-of tragedy.

On the characters.  

      On Greenleaf.  What Aragorn had said about his alienation in part 2 pretty much summarizes the loneliness that I imagine Legolas would ultimately have, it being that he found a lot of mortal attachments that he is destined to lose.  This loneliness is further emphasized by little instances along the story, such as his excitement in the prologue to show his companions what the future is like, and his disappointment in parts 1 and 4 when they all distrust him.  His tragic end is also made to be sad particularly because ultimately, if you think about it, it wasn't only he who died but also the entire fellowship with him, because they would never truly know each other.  

      On Legolas.  My all-time favorite character seems to have sunken into a 'second-billing' in this fic to his future self which I have made as similar but also undoubtedly distinct from him.  Legolas detests the fate that he sees he will have in Greenleaf, which causes him to be somewhat antagonistic and even towards the end, just hesitantly receptive of his future self.  He abhors the idea of his future loneliness and takes it out upon Greenleaf, for he could not really focus it elsewhere.  

      On Aragorn.  I have an attachment to how he relates with Legolas.  The camaraderie is admirable, and there is a depth to it that no one can resist delving into.  Now he has two Legolases to deal with, and knowing how different the two are, I wanted to play with how he could relate to the both of them.  I also wanted him to have a look of the future of his immortal friend, of how the world will be after he dies, and I wanted him to truly see the solitude in it.  I also wanted to play with how his relationship to Legolas could be changed by this knowledge.

On the ending.  I wanted to throw Greenleaf a curveball or two when it suddenly dawned unto him that he _cannot_ take the ring into the future.  The second curveball was when he finally found a way to resolve the situation, it would cost him his treasured fellowship.  This is where I am absolutely certain things got complicated and difficult, and I'm not sure if I got the idea across, but I most definitely tried my hardest.  If I'm met with great complaints, however, it is always an option to revise :)

      Moving on… I was tempted to cut the story at part 9.  In a sense, its tragic ending was supposed to be a redeeming factor. HOW? With Greenleaf gone, and the fellowship never to be formed, it was the only way I could think to prevent Legolas' ultimate loneliness, if he was without the attachments that the fellowship provided him with.  So I was thinking, what would be better, to have loved something and lost it, or to never have had it? It's a pretty classic question, one which is akin to that faced by Arwen and Aragorn: should she sail to the undying lands where their love would be evergreen but never more than a memory? Or should she suffer the doom of men? I went kind-of midway.  Greenleaf, who was so unhappy with having had something he loved and lost it, dies with his memories.  But Legolas lives on, and wouldn't _ever_ be the solitary and unhappy Greenleaf because he didn't have his burdens.  But I also wanted him to come across the fellowship in some way, hence, kind-of a very modern take on Tolkien's 'international relations': a trade route spanning from east to west.  I figured trade was always present in the tales of middle-earth somewhere, like between elves and dwarves (Moria once was a hub, if I recall correctly), the Teleri bearing gifts to the Numenoreans, trade in busy old Bree, there are even trade routes in Tolkien's maps unless I'm thinking about something else… so I thought, why not bring them together that way? Besides, all their lineage guaranteed them a place of power in the future (save for Sam), so this is how I 'gave Legolas back' the fellowship, but without the painful attachments, though I left the new future to your imaginations :)  The bit with the future Legolas being in the painting is also just a little fanciful idea that I had fun with.  I also didn't want him to just vanish forever with all his deeds, so he's there, even if he is just a little mystery.

      The old wizard Elrond was referring to at the end is, of course, Gandalf, by the way.  As an Istari, he was sent to Middle-Earth by greater powers to mobilize action against evil.  So I thought it was kind of a humorous twist of fate that he 'had nothing else to do,' but bestow a kind of like a blessing for Legolas, when the gods bring them all together again, even if he did not know how much he treasured his old friends.  I did hint at Part 8 that Eru did not really leave them all alone to suffer.

On the style.  It is very straightforward, I think.  I had a hard time conceptualizing and putting together my own work, since the idea of time travel is complicated to say the least, with its multiplicity of consequences that are difficult to predict.  So I tried to keep the style simple.  It is hard enough for me to understand it, much more for readers who would not see the entirety of the story until the very end.  If I put some kind of spin, though, it was only in the sense that I wanted the story to feel 'big.'  Like a massive adventure, tearing through time and different places, with world-changing events, and larger-than-life villains and triumphant, sacrificing heroes.  If you have read my fic "Estel," you will see the contrast between 'big' and 'small' or better yet, 'intimate.'  "Estel" is set in a distant, woody cabin which I always imagined as warm and perpetually glowing by firelight.  The story moved very slowly, and the attention is to the most minute of details; this glance, this pot, the rain, these hands… "_Tempus edax rerum_" in contrast, speaks of black clouds, and evil, and great fires and harsh winds and wide, open spaces.  

On 'movie-scripting'.  Undoubtedly, if I wanted to write a tine-machine story containing events from LOTR, I had to actually go back to the past, which brings me into the conflict of whether or not to follow the book, or the movie it being that they have some pretty unmistakable differences.  Since I wanted to reach as many people as I could, I generally went with the events from the movie if there was any conflict between the two because I figured anyone who has ever read the book must have seen it anyway.  Plus, I added some paraphrased book bits too, that were not in the films :) Also, you may have noticed that I used not much verbatim movie scripting and instead either summed up entire statements or dialogues in a few paragraphs, or shortened statements or slightly changed them.  I found this the better alternative because first, not only was it less laborious, it is also a style that contributes to the theme of the story: things are the same, but not quite.  These are exchanges that we have heard, but they are slightly altered by virtue of the new presence within the group.  What verbatim movie-bits you find here I got from a website crediting Imladris Forums for transcribing "The Fellowship of the Ring."  An example of my quasi-movie-scripting is the scene of Boromir and Frodo at Parth Galen in Part 6.  My earliest fic for LOTR is called "Battles" and I was advised against using the movie script word by word because the tendency is to gloss over it as one reads, assuming that we already know what would happen and just eager to see what would be newly introduced.  This is why I put in bits of the script, while skipping some parts and summarizing them by what the watcher—Legolas, in the Parth Galen scene, sees.

On the title.  It's a quote from Ovid, and it means "Time the devourer of all things."  I was tempted to use _Tempus fugit_ which is actually catchier, but does not properly encase the sentiments that I wanted to convey (it means "Time flies").  I am awed by Latin because it captures whole ideals in these few-worded phrases.  This is the first time I've used Latin titling in my LOTR fics, although I have used a few Latin titles in my works for other pieces.  In this fic, time is indeed the devourer of all things because as it passes, it renders some pasts practically dispensable, as Greenleaf argues at the beginning.  In the end too is this seen, because time did devour the fellowship, when it never came into fruition because of the changes made.  Time also ends all things.

      On the chapter titles.  Most of them are pretty straightforward, but this changed with parts 7 to 10.  Part 7 is called "Truer Betrayals" because Part 6, "Deceptions" ended with what _seemed_ a betrayal cliffhanger, with Greenleaf threatening Sam.  The truer betrayal is Greenleaf's betrayal of himself, giving up that which he loves.  You can also look at this truer betrayal as the betrayal of fate, when it was so cruel not to let him return to the future just when he had finally acquired the ring.  Part 8, "Tol Eressea" is my take on using Middle-Earth geography top contribute to my story.  Ever heard of the saying 'no man is an island?' well in Part 8, we get to see Legolas all alone against a great evil, making his last stand in the Lonely Isle.  Part 9 is called "Ghost" which is kind of a hint of what will happen in Part 10; this Greenleaf will haunt us again.  It also means he is there but not quite, stuck in a different time, a mystery, fleeting, etc.  Part 10 is called Reprise because if you notice the first paragraphs of Part 1 is pirated off and slightly modified to fit Part 10.  The date is already the same with the date of the Council of Elrond ;) Reprise is used in music as a kind of repetition or restatement, but often slightly varied.  I wanted to have fun with the idea that in Part 1, Greenleaf was strange because the folks of Rivendell were more familiar with Legolas.  And then the reverse happens in Part 10, with the folks of Rivendell finding Legolas strange because they were more familiar with Greenleaf :)

On the Chosen Settings.  Notice I picked particular settings in this piece for instance, not really focusing on Caradhras or Hollin, which have been stops along the way.  In the FOTR, I have a weakness for Moria, because I think it absolutely stirs the imagination, and it does for the first movie what Helm's Deep does for "The Two Towers."  I wonder which big scene they would be showing in ROTK, because there are a lot of places that absolutely demand for attention there :)  I can't wait :)

On My Reviewers.  You guys are so kind and patient.  A MASSIVE THANKS to everyone who lent my story even just a little of their time, and I hope you did not regret it because, haha, unlike in my fic, we can't really go back to the past and undo having read _Tempus Edax Rerum_.  

      I especially want to thank YBR, who despite what fate seems to want to happen, still stubbornly tries to post reviews :) I am sorry for the inconvenience, I truly appreciate the effort, and I hope I did not disappoint.  To Platy.  Thanks so much for always always taking the time.  I hope I did well by your reminders.  I am also struggling from posting everything all at once to take your advice :) To Gwyn.  I hope I don't jeopardize your grades!!! :) Thank you for taking the time to read my works and for reviewing.  I try very very hard not to disappoint :)

As always, c&c's always welcome.  There are some parts of my fic that I'm not as happy as I could be with, so who knows, maybe I'll revise it soon, change the ending, etc., that depends, if a new story hits and demands me to work on that instead.  

BTW, notice in part two, Greenleaf says to Legolas before he is cut off, "We will not get married until--?" I think my temptation to write a legomance is starting to manifest itself :) Although this quip is actually meant to be more of a joke, Greenleaf trying to get a rise out of Legolas :) As for my aspirations, I'll see if I eventually find the inspiration :) 'til then! :)


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